Tyger by the Tail

The Albatross

2012-02-07T16:51:00.001-04:00

George Jones, one of my Mom's favorite singers, sometimes used to be called "No Show Jones". He was an alcoholic and sometimes didn't bother to show up for a performance. Mom says Scott Gomez is worse than that, presumably because he does show up and always gives such a shitty performance.

Gomez does not always give a shitty performance, and since his return he's had good nights, but unless he starts putting up points regularly the guy is not going to get much of a break. It really does suck and I feel for him even as I rail about his play at times. He seems like a nice guy.

Look I like Scott Gomez, but if I could trade him for someone who didn't go over a year between goals or could offer up more consistent points yet still brought some nice karma to the dressing room I'd sell him upriver in a heartbeat. Luckily for Scott Gomez I'm not Pierre Gauthier and Geoff Molson or else he'd have been waived to the AHL quite awhile ago.

It strikes me as odd, this ability to like someone and yet not really enjoy seeing them. Gomez, as evidenced by his recent interview with Dave Stubbs on hockeyinsideout.com, is quite a likeable fellow. Open a Gomez soundbite and the man is simply fun to watch and full of character and sarcasm and potty mouth and humour, all of which I find terribly endearing in people.

Put him in skates and throw him out on the ice in the bleu, blanc et rouge and I grind my teeth. Put him next to me in a pub and I'm going to lean over and say, "Hey, how YOU doing?"

C'est la vie.

This paradox exists for me in my workplace too.

I had a coworker state at full volume to anyone within a 10 mile radius that he "Didn't give a shit" about another coworker. See, when I don't give a shit about something I just don't address it. It doesn't rate the thought or the vocalization, particularly at maximum possible decibels.

If it's not talked about here or not mentioned on one of the other sites I write for chances are pretty damned good I just don't give a rat's ass. That's just how I roll.

And this is my whole problem with Gomez. He talks an excellent game. He just doesn't play one.

Are there nights he looks great on the ice? Absolutely. The same can be said of some of his struggling teammates. But when one's record is so completely abysmal I have to wonder how long Gauthier and Molson can continue to protect him.

At some point, something will have to give and it's likely going to be the upcoming CBA (please Hockey Gods no strike) which will end Scott Gomez's career in Montreal. He's a good guy that deserves better, the team that adores him deserves better, and it is what it is and damnit sometimes I just really hate that.

Still, I have found some inspiration allow for the extraction of some humour in all this. Full apologies to Edgar Allan Poe and Scott Gomez in advance.

The Albatross

Once upon a Habs game losing, while the crowd was liberally boozing

Because the Habs were constantly snoozing and turning over pucks galore

And I bitched and griped and grumbled, watching the Habs continue to fumble

Upon the ice causing them to tumble out of contention to the basement floor

“Tis the Hockey Gods,” said I “causing them to hit the floor;

Only that and Gomez can’t score.”

Ah, distinctly I remember, it was way back prior to November

Friedman gave stats for contenders which most fans did then ignore.

“Faith!” they cried while staying cheery, even as I grew leery

Jaded, ambivalent and truly weary as only happened once before

When Houle and Tremblay gutted the team of its very core,

Hopefully repeated nevermore.

And the descendent down the ladder has made fans so much madder

Frustrated the Habs are so much badder than only a year or two before.

Markov lingers hurt and broken, yet from the brass no word is spoken

Of important matters scarce times a token of which the fans now bore.

While on the ice the Canadiens resemble not the team of yore.

The power play no longer scores.

But smiling, laughing, acting brave though the situation is now quite grave

Though the pundits still often rave about the fact that he can’t score

The albatross returns to action. His struggling play a quick distraction

While I hunger for full retraction from fans now oft behaving poor

Down the ice he streaks and suddenly the whole crowd roars

“He’s actually gonna score!”

Out of my seat jumped I with glee, dizzy from the sheer poetry

Of Gomez scoring easily on a puck deflected at Pavelec’s door.

Silent fans in the Bell awaited, hopeful the drought had thus abated

While I remained quite agitated, chewed my nails, drank, and often swore.

Potty mouth aside I truly wished the Albatross had scored

Hoped he’d soon get many more.

Yet still endures the great misery of the Albatrosses next goal, so key

For the quiet faithful fans to see and treasure in a year so poor.

La Sainte-Flanelle, Le Bleu-Blanc-Rouge, Le Tricoloure did not often lose

Still I sit and quietly muse upon The Cup they won times twenty-four.

And missing the post-season show is a wound so terrible sore

Keeping faith at times a chore.

All around discuss new bosses, fantasy trading team albatrosses

Analyzing insurmountable losses and offering up excuses I do deplore

My love may be never ending but not at all do I savour spending

Playoffs where I am just pretending interest in this sport’s yearly war

And Les Glorieux are ghostly echoes of great legends of hockey lore

I’m a Habs fan and I want more.

The Big Bird Has Landed

2012-01-26T16:26:00.003-04:00

Da Nephew: "Best Wishes Larry Robinson"

It has gotten to the point where the Leafs fans at work are trying to cheer us up when the Habs play.

Little Red's husband called her at work. "Tell them the Habs are killing the Red Wings six to nothing in the second!"

It was terribly nice of him, though Bro had been keeping us posted via text message. "Two nothing. Emelin's first," I told Mom. "Three nothing. Four nothing after the first!" By the time the Canadiens had opened up a staggering six goal lead we finally relaxed.

"I don't care who they are," I said to Mom. "They're not getting seven past Price in the 3rd unless they're allowed to pick up the puck and throw it in. Oh, and I forgot to record the game."

This last bit was met most unfavorably. "You ALWAYS record the games!"

"I forgot! We can watch it on Canadiens Express. And I want chicken wings. There's some sort of rule where you get chicken wings when they score 5 goals."

"You had chicken wings LAST game..."

Nonetheless we grabbed chicken wings after the game and settled in to watch a very fine game indeed. I'm not sure how the Detroit Red Wings rose to the top of the standings playing games like that and I'll assume it was an off night for Jimmy Howard.

The Habs, meanwhile, looked like they should have all along. I was terribly excited for Alexei Yemelin and after six goals and a few cosmos I got reckless again.

"A hundred dollar dinner to you, Mother, if you guess who gets the 7th goal."

"Pleky!" she answered instantly. "Although it probably will be Cole."

"You're sticking with Pleky? You can change that you know."

"Pleky," she repeated, although she seemed unconvinced.

Tomas Plekanec, as you may recall, singlehandedly cost me $300 in lost bets to Mom last season. This is how she got her playoff ticket, because I paid for it by betting on Michael Cammalleri instead.

When Pleky broke away she threw her hands up in the air, and when Conklin made the save she bitched and swore at her favorite Hab, lamenting how he broke her heart. When Cole scored the 7th and final Habs goal she wanted to know if she could have $50 at least. Nice try, but it doesn't work that way.

This morning the phone rang in our apartment but neither of us budged to get out of our respective beds to answer the door. Since it was Canada Post with our parcel this was clearly a bad decision.

Larry Robinson has always been my favorite hockey player, with Guy Lafleur a close second. This is what happens when you see them play live in early childhood. The Robinson jersey USED to be mine... for about five minutes, though in truth I am quite happy with my Henri Richard sweater these days.

One of my Dad's golfing buddies (knew that golfing schtick would come in handy one day thanks Dad) happens to be a buddy of Robinson's and he offered to get us some signatures.

After a bit of coaxing Mom agreed to trust the mail system with her cherished jersey. We also included some prized cards including the one from our Centennial set, and a photo of Da Nephew for signing, along with thank you cards to both gentlemen.

"My jersey!" Mom said, when I collected it from the RPO and carried it out to the car. She ripped open the parcel and pulled out her treasure. She reminded me a lot of Da Nephew this Christmas past, she was that excited and thrilled. "This is the best present EVER!"

Robinson signed it with his name, number and HOF 1995. I've snapped a handy dandy closeup for you to drool over.

"Are you going to wear it?" I asked Mom.

"One period of their next game. Might even help them win. After that it's going in a shadow box. But it's mine, all mine!"

For your viewing pleasure we've also scanned the hockey cards Monsieur Robinson was kind enough to sign, one of which I've promised a good Habs friend.

One of my favorite Habs cards!

From our Centennial Set.

For Laura.

And just like that the signed Saku Koivu jersey is supplanted as the prize centerpiece of our modest Canadiens collection. Sorry Saku!

The Wheels On the Bus Went Kerplunk

2012-01-22T15:02:00.000-04:00

Every now and again life knocks my feet out from under me.

I was hoping my Santa Fe would last. It's not the greatest looking car with the peeling black paint but since I am "vertically challenged" it's difficult for me to find a ride I'm truly comfortable in, let alone an SUV. I test drove a LOT of models before I picked the Hyundai.

Turns out it was a bad choice. I got a lemon and sucked it dry for years. So when Mom called from work with the bad news that the suspension was shot and the tires were splayed funny in the back, I'd had enough.

I did a lot of online comparison shopping and got some friendly advice from my online and offline buddies. My two favorites were "horse and buggy" and "teleportation".

The horse is just going to ruin my living room carpet, and with the way traffic flows at rush hour in Halifax I'm thinking a buggy is pretty much suicidal and I am pretty attached to the whole being alive thing anyway. I'd do teleportation but last I read scientists had only completed successful transport of 80% of an atom and I am slightly bigger than that, though perhaps I could stand to drop a few pounds.

I took Bro, Mom and Da Nephew with me to help with the test driving, which is really the fun part, long before the seller asks for your wallet and left arm.

The first model Bro and I tried was some sort of Pontiac space-ship style SUV. It was a 2009 and I pretty much hated the feel of it the second we pulled out onto the road.

"I can only see out the top half of the rear window," I complained. "The front of this thing is much lower than the back. And these seats are uncomfortable. And I don't like that huge blind spot. And I've had a blue car before anyway."

For reasons that are unfathomable, I always end up with a different vehicle colour every time I buy a new ride. I always buy based on how comfortable I feel with a car, but I've been buying vehicles since I was 17 and I've gone through orange, brown, fire engine red, blue, white, and black. It's a running joke and I didn't want to ruin it by repeating a colour.

My brother, however, had bigger concerns. "There's no second cup holder. How can you only have one cup holder in the front seat of a car?"

"That's not a deal breaker for me," I said, trying to find a place to turn around. I had already decided against it. "I don't like this car at all though."

"Well it's a deal breaker for me."

"Well you're not buying the car," I shot back. "You got a FREE CAR from Dad. I've never gotten a free car in my LIFE!"

"You'll bitch about the cup holders when we drive to Montreal for a game," he said.

True enough. It was the final straw. No blue Pontiac spaceship.

Next up was another blue SUV, a Mazda Tribute. It was comparable in size to my Santa Fe and was fully loaded. However she needed new tires and some minor mechanical work, which would have been done prior to purchase.

Since she had two cup holders and was indeed a sweet ride that both Bro and I enjoyed I put her on the short list.

Next was the Ford Escape, and this time Mom went along for the test drive.

"There are 10 miles of hood on this thing," I said, pulling onto the street. "And she's longer and wider than the Hyundai."

"You're comfortable with her though," said Mom and it was true. I suppose years of driving the bigger Canada Post vehicles have changed my preferences away from the small economy models I had been purchasing before.

"Look at this console. It's got buttons for everything. I'll need an engineering degree to drive this thing."

"It has a rear wiper. Does it work?"

This sounds like a minor thing, but it's not. The Santa Fe's rear wiper had never worked and we'd never gotten it fixed either since the Black Bomb, as we used to call her, was an endless money pit.

I flicked the wiper and it responded, swiping a wide swath of glass free from the snow that had started to fall.

"Oh my God it works!" I said.

We played with more buttons and I practiced backing her up to make sure I could park her. I was sitting higher than in the Santa Fe or the Tribute and frankly I loved it.

"She's a much smoother ride than anything I've ever owned before."

"It'll be hell on gas though," said Mom.

The Escape was two years newer and fully loaded for the same price as the Tribute, and I'm more comfortable in that one even though it's bigger than the now kicked-to-the-curb Hyundai. So in the end the decision was easy.

I picked it up on Saturday after signing away any potential firstborn child. The car had been detailed for me, but because of the previous day's storm it took all of 3 minutes to get coated in dirty slush.

"What are you going to call her?" Bro wanted to know.

"Cream Dream."

"Don't you think that's a little pornographic? How about The Fleshmobile?"

"You think that's not X-rated? Hell no."

"Beige Biatch then."

In the end we decided on Creamsicle. There's only room enough for one Biatch in this family and that's me.

Win Some Lose Some

2012-01-08T01:50:00.001-04:00

So I'm a chickenshit, okay?

Everyone has a "thing". Mine is flying.

I've done it before. I've flown because I've "had" to for work. My employer insisted upon training in Vancouver. I'll spare you the details, but I cried most of the flight and the landings and takeoffs, while routine, left me resigned to meet my Maker.

It was that bad.

Hey, I have problems with step stools. Put me in a steel tube hurtling through Earth's upper atmosphere and my confidence hardly goes up. I'd need to sport natural feathers to feel confident flying anywhere.

I didn't go to Panama City to visit my father.

I can't tell you how stupid I feel; how embarrassed or ashamed. But a phobia does not respond to logic. It beats logic down with a simple backhand and laughs in logic's face.

I had a meltdown. I had a panic attack. I did not get on the plane. And I have done nothing but regret it ever since.

I disappointed myself. I had resolved to be stronger and I wasn't. I broke my first resolution.

I looked in the mirror that morning and saw the fear etched so clearly on every pore of my face and I broke. I failed and now that I don't actually have to get on the plane I feel stupid. I feel like I've missed a golden opportunity. I feel childish.

I have a phobia, and it is no small demon to vanquish. We all have our own. My mother dislikes water, as does my brother. I have a friend who would sooner be burned alive than face a spider. There is no rationale whatsoever. They just are.

I had every intention of getting on the plane and I didn't. The loser is me, and to another degree my father who was looking forward to my visit and had made many detailed plans to introduce me to the beauty and culture of Panama.

The airline has credited me for the full value of the flight I missed, so in truth I've lost nothing but face here, and to that I must own up. Lying is not one of my talents.

There's the loss.

As for the win, my mother's cousin and her husband came to visit today. If there's one thing that can put a halt to my self-flagellation it's family.

K2 and her ex-soldier hubby Oddball showed up and immediately called me out on my failure to get on the plane.

"I had a panic attack!" I said in self defense.

"Screw that," snapped Odd. "I'd have gotten on and let the air marshals sort it out."

He's braver than me, but then again he was a soldier. He's also endearingly silly.

His wife K2 was featuring a Newfie slang app on her iPhone. One of the translations featured was "Hey, what's your name buddy?"

"Oddball used that one at a party," she said.

"It's true," said Oddball. "I asked a guy - What's your name buddy?"

"How'd you know my name?" the guy asked.

"What? I asked for your name buddy."

"Yeah, how'd you know that?" asked the guy again.

"What the hell, buddy..."

"What?" said the guy innocently enough.

Apparently that's when his wife poked her head out of the kitchen. "That IS his name. Buddy."

"He had me going for awhile," confessed Oddball.

"How much did you have to drink?" I asked.

"Enough."

"I asked him if he knew how many people had that name," laughed K2.

We all watched the Habs beat Tampa Bay.

"I'm rooting for Tampa Bay," said Oddball. "Go Tampa Bay."

"Watch this power play," I said confidently. "The Habs have the worst power play in the entire NHL."

"Jeez, I never knew how negative you were against your own team!" said Oddball, who is not a hockey or sports fan. "Go Montreal! They're gonna win 3-2. I'm calling it now."

RDS chose that moment to put up a stat that declared that the Montreal Canadiens had the worst power play in the entire NHL.

"See?" I said, waving my hands around. "I'm not negative. Just stating the facts!"

He chose to root for the Habs anyway, so my powers of corruption appear to be intact. When they won he said it was his doing.

"You have to come back for every game!" I told him and K2.

"See you Monday," said Bro.

Mom won $10 betting that the final score would be 3-1 while I had put money on OT and Bro had put his money on clinging to a slim one goal lead. At least I didn't have to pay her $100 since it was Cole who got the 3rd goal and not her boy Plekanec.

I suppose one of the benefits of missing the plane to Panama is that I can actually catch some Habs game live instead of on the PVR. But it's a small consolation.

The War of the Habs

2012-01-04T04:05:00.001-04:00

I really feel for the WJC Team Canada kids. What a great group of guys. I don't usually get weepy over hockey unless there's a Cup win involved for the Habs and I'm PMSing.

Yeah they could have done a bit better at the beginning of the game but what an exciting finish and when the kids got all teary eyed in the post-game pressers I suddenly found the need to sniffle. This is the type of hockey I love.

By comparison the current Habs, also a great group of guys I like a lot, are not playing the type of hockey I like to watch or really spend any length of time on anymore. It's depressing and I get tired of writing depressing things about this team.

They are no doubt better than their record shows, but I get tired of waiting for it to actually manifest. That whole jaded thing I used to do with this team has given way to almost complete disinterest.

This is where the "oh you're not a TRUE fan" pundits like to venture forth out of their troll caves, but let me spare you the wasted effort. I am a true fan. I still watch, mostly because I do care despite everything. I just don't watch all 60 minutes since the Habs tend not to play for a full 60 minutes and commercials annoy me plus I have PVR so I can skip the usual Keystone Kops on Ice moments for my own viewing pleasure.

On top of that, I don't subscribe to other people's definitions of what makes a hockey or a Habs fan. I watch hockey. I watch the Habs. That makes me a Habs hockey fan.

Lately also in this category is the Winnipeg Jets, who currently remain the only Canadian NHL team that has not pissed me off. It won't last, but it's a nice change to watch and root for a Canadian team without some abysmal half-hearted or bad luck performances, and it has no language controversy.

You know someone took a shot on me on twitter the other night for making a racist comment because I was bitching about Pierre Gauthier apologizing to the French masses for hiring an Anglophone coach. Outside of Quebec discrimination based on language is not tolerated, so I'm not sure why it's okay there and why I should suffer it overshadowing and affecting my enjoyment of my favorite team and sport.

I'm also not getting why French Quebec in 2012 still feels so insecure that a large portion of its non-hockey watching members feels the need to bind their culture's identity with a professional sports team. When I think of the things I love about Quebec, the Habs are not the beginning and end of it for me and I'm a Habs fan.

I grew up there and enjoy French Canadian traditions that are still a part of my family's lifestyle, especially around the holidays, despite the fact that my Francophone father spends that time of year sunning his ass on a tropical beach and the rest of us are predominantly Anglophone. But it's just part of who we are.

I don't resent the French. I love them, especially the ones I'm related to and since my father had nine brothers and sisters who all begat their own children you can do the math here. But they don't give a shit about what language the coach speaks so I'm not sure why the hell I should.

The only language any of us cares about is winning. And this team is not doing that. And the whole "He doesn't speak French and that's all that matters and I'm so sorry I did this terrible thing and insulted the only fans that matter so outside of Quebec you just aren't important to us" apology that Gauthier did is something I resent not as an Anglophone, but as a Habs fan.

It's smoke and mirrors.

Look, over here on this hand the team is struggling and has major problems but look at all the news cameras over here and no one talks about the team itself anymore. And the self-entitled political posturers are given yet another high horse to climb up on and handed the reigns.

I don't care if the French are insulted. In Nova Scotia the Dexter government offers up daily apologies to pretty much every special interest group in the province. They are two sides of the same coin, but one gets mega negative international press and it's not the NDP despite their best efforts.

Everyone's got an agenda, and this time it's the language agenda which is casting a long shadow on a team that's already in a deep hole. How am I supposed to react favorably to or be supportive of that?

Perhaps if the French care so much about protecting their culture they ought to expose the world to its excellent art and cuisine and language in a way that does not overshadow the management and workings of a professional sports team and cause overwhelming dissension within a great portion of the fanbase of that team.

It seems to be a truly radical thought for some to embrace, but not for me. It seems pretty simple enough. After all the Parisians did it, and hell even the Newfoundlanders have done it for centuries now.

Right now the Habs and their woes both on ice and off strike me more as a damned circus than anything. And I have no interest in the monkeys running the show.

And if that makes me a racist then go buy yourself a goddamned dictionary.

Food, Wine and Shoot 'Em Ups

2011-12-26T15:56:00.000-04:00

About a week before Christmas I sent my Dad an email outlining what I had purchased for the family with the money he had sent. He winters outside Panama City so it's a bit tricky for him to do the shopping himself.

"Try not to act surprised when you call and they thank you for the presents," I had written at the very end of the email.

On Christmas Day my Dad called just after dinner while the family was all still here.

"Thanks so much for the presents," Bro told him. "Just what we needed."

"Good stuff! Good stuff! I'm so glad to hear that," said Dad. "What did I get you?"

We arranged for a video chat later that night, which I completely forgot about until almost an hour after the fact. Finally we hooked up online and waved our gifts in front of the webcam for him to see.

He spent Christmas on a beach, drinking with friends. We spent it running around like chickens with our heads cut off, but all things considered I'd rather be here and apparently so would he, but only for the one day. I suppose it's hard to compete with a tropical beach when there's a half foot of snow in the driveway.

I'm pleased to report the turducken turned out perfectly as promised, but I can't say as I'd ever drop a hundred bucks for another one. The turkey is nice and moist, much more than a regular turkey, but I'm not a fan of duck or the international dressing which has the consistency and flavour of ground duck, and if there was an actual chicken in the damned thing I never did find a piece of it.

"Tur-DUCK-en," Bro repeatedly corrected me. "What the hell is a tur-DUNK-en? There's no dunk in the middle of that thing."

Pity. I'd prefer a Dunkin' Donut in the middle of it to a duck. I like donuts at least.

Zee made the most amazing cherry cheesecake which will take me a full week to eat and then a full year to get off my ass. I'm not sure what size cheesecake she thought we needed but we were only feeding four adults and one child and not a small army of elves besides.

Luckily we have guests coming over tonight and I fully intend to fob some off on them in hopes of avoiding further weight gain, at least MY further weight gain. I don't really care about theirs.

Da Nephew made out like a bandit and got into the whole paper tearing thing, helping to open everyone's presents. At two and a half he's finally old enough to get excited about the whole thing and there's nothing to compare with an excited kid at Christmas.

He loved everything and with the exception of the little red tricycle and the tiny electric guitar his mother took the whole works home with them. Enjoy the bike horn Zee!

On the way to taking three bags of garbage and a car load of boxes out to the apartment waste bins Mom took a header down the back stairs. She face planted into one tile covered step and frankly scared the hell out of me, but other than a few bruises she seems none the worse for wear. She consoled herself with liberal glasses of sangria.

I took to playing my new PS3 game Skyrim, which is a fantasy quest game. When Bro came up we switched for a bit to Call of Duty, wherein we tried to achieve goals such as running a course or holding a fortified position.

I seemed to take heavy damage and couldn't locate the source of the fire, so I backed up and fell off a ledge into enemy territory. Realizing my soldier was about to die, I pulled a pistol and walked up to an enemy and emptied a clip into his head before getting mortally wounded myself.

"Bleeding out!" kept flashing on my half of the TV screen until a final bullet ended my misery.

Bro started laughing. "Oh my God I just killed you! It says Guest2 dead! I saw this character on the ground rolling around and he was still moving and I kept shooting."

"You shot me?" I roared in righteous indignation.

"You shot me in the HEAD last round!"

"Yeah but you lived didn't you? Look I'm dead on the ground over there."

That was the end of the joint game play.

"Don't trust your brother," Mom advised once Bro had left the room.

Gee, ya think? I switched back to Skyrim after he left, but once I got devoured by the giant poisonous spider that was the end of the day's gaming.

Meanwhile Mom spent a lot of the night complaining about her bruises and playing her facebook game. Despite all our rushing around, her first priority every time we came home was to dash into the den and collect her free points.

"You're sick, you know that?" I told her.

"I know. And you are going to stop sassing me in the New Year," she said.

"Really? You going to beat it out of me or something?"

"For a start."

"I doubt it," I said, walking away to start unpacking my purchases. "It seems to be genetic."

Hope you all had a lovely, happy holiday folks!

Twas the Madness Before Christmas

2011-12-24T12:39:00.006-04:00

Last night I had the house to myself around as Mom and Bro took off to do some last minute shopping for Da Nephew. I took a look around and divided everything into two categories: Stuff I Should Be Doing

And What I Am Actually Planning on Doing.

It has been one of those weeks.

Every year I promise myself I'm going to get ahead of the game, start off Christmas shopping in October and just put my feet up and relax when the actual holiday rolls around. I even managed it one year, but I got bored and felt left out of the whole hoopla.

Half the fun is the half hour in line for some D batteries, griping at other shoppers about the half hour in line to buy some D batteries and I didn't even know toy manufacturers built toys that still used D batteries until last night. The other half is the look of pure delight on the kid's face when he opens the toy.

Our particular madness this year started Wednesday night after midnight, when Mom and I roared out of the Canada Post parking lot. The rain was coming down in sheets.

"You really want to go grocery shopping in this?" Mom asked me.

"No," I said. "But I'd like less to include it in my schedule tomorrow morning when I have other shopping to do before work and when there are 3000 more people in the stores."

We got the food, went home to the usual news that the Habs lost and compensated with a nightcap. Mom had hopped in the tub while I had shed my clothes and was relaxing in my pyjamas. She came out to play her slot game, raising her eyebrows as she spotted her desk.

"Whose bra is this?" she asked, pinching one teeny corner of the fabric between a thumb and forefinger. She moved her hand 3 millimetres to the left and let go, dropping it on the floor.

I thought the 16 year old disgusted valley girl impression was spot on, and couldn't stop laughing. "Well it's just you and me here and you took yours off in the bathroom. Whose bra do you think it is exactly?"

The next morning we charged out into the fray again. I won't tell you the bar tab at the liquour store, but you can probably get an idea from the photo above. Not included in that phone: the fully stocked wine racks and a 5L bowl of Sangria.

"I don't know how to make a small Sangria," I told Mom.

"Go big or go home," was her reply. Mom likes my Sangria.

Speaking of which, we had decided on a turducken this year. We just couldn't find one until we called my brother, who had seen a butcher shop in Eastern Passage advertising them on a sign. Mom and I hopped in the car and drove across the harbour.

"Doesn't he live in Pittsburgh?" I complained, eyeballing the usual signage. Every single entry into Eastern Passage, Nova Scotia has a sign declaring itself as the Home of Sidney Crosby. Hey, you want to impress me? Try being the home of Larry Robinson. Just saying.

We hustled into the butcher shop and claimed our 15 lb turducken, which is apparently the only size the thing comes in. Mom got cooking instructions and I got heartburn.

"One store, one purchase, one hundred dollars, for one meal!" I complained bitterly. "We don't even know if we like turducken yet."

"I like chicken. I like duck. I like turkey," Mom assured me.

That night we begged off work two hours early and re-did the grocery store thingy, picking up snacks aplenty as it appeared my invitations to co-workers to stop by were going to be accepted.

"This is YOUR fault," Mom told me, but she was smiling at the thought of guests. Part of the problem with living away from Newfoundland is not doing the rounds of relatives and mooching food and booze or having them do the same to you. We like our traditions.

The next morning I got dressed, glanced out the window and braced myself for another accusation. "It's not my fault!" I hollered in a preemptive declaration of self-defense.

"Oh. My. GAWD!" Mom roared, charging to the window. "This is your fault! You're a witch! You wished for snow and look at this mess!"

Shopping also did not start out promising. We hit Toys 'R Us and I had to pause to suck in my breath as soon as we entered the store.

"Justin Bieber Christmas balls," I said, in wondrous horror. The bag of six red tree ornaments had his toothy grin smiling up at me. "This is proof positive this planet is going off the rails."

Despite all the madness we got our treasures and headed home. I was yawning my head off after 10 hours straight shopping, and Mom was having none of it.

"I just need to sit," I told her.

"You may not sit," she said. "Sitting is not permitted at this time."

But she and Bro took off back to the store and I curled up in the rocker recliner anyway, managing to catch a few zzz's.

Today we picked up Da Nephew and took off to the liquour store AGAIN. I had done this last year and promised never again to visit a liquour store on Christmas Eve. Given a choice I'd rather be stood against a wall and shot. Twice.

But Mom was driving, with Da Nephew in the back and I had no choice apparently.

"Oh my God," I sighed, eying the crowd rushing into the just-opened store. I hauled ass out of the truck and charged through the crowd, muttering apologies the whole while.

The store workers were dressed in festive Santa hats and just coming down the stairs. There were at least a half dozen of them, and they all had the same reaction upon seeing the patrons. "Holy BLEEP!"

I grabbed a bottle of wine, a bottle of Carolans, and beat most of the crowd to the checkout. At the checkout one of the clerks was talking to a supervisor.

"It should even out after this first rush," said the pimple-faced boy who did not look old enough to work for the liquour corporation.

"Doubt it," responded the supervisor, hands on hips, as she peered out through the windows. "They're circling for parking and it looks like a good 50 people are waiting out the initial crowd in their cars."

I headed back to the truck and we peeled out to Wal-Mart, grabbed some stocking stuffers, and then headed over to buy lobster. It's lobster season here, and the fishermen are selling it for five bucks a pound for premium hard shelled lobster.

"I want 4, maybe 5," Mom told the fisherman. "Two pounds or more each, and no more than fifty dollars total."

"Here," he said, handing her a bag of lobsters. "I threw in an extra one for you, so there's six. Merry Christmas!"

And Merry Christmas and safe and Happy Holidays to you too, my loyal readers. Thank you so much for your support this past year. Please know that I really do appreciate the wonderful gift of your valuable time that you take to read my rambling posts.

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Grinchmas

2011-12-14T12:59:00.002-04:00

Our Christmas tree.

I was sick last week while Mom was back in Newfoundland. I got better but she came home and promptly got sick herself.

"It's your fault," she said, giving me the Evil Eye while swiping at her nose with a kleenex. "You gave me the plague."

"The PLAGUE? Pretty sure I didn't give you "the plague" Mother."

But she's not happy with me today, and she's also not particularly enthralled with the tree topper either.

"It looked harmless enough in the box," I told her, hands on hips as we stood in front of the tree, gazing upwards at it.

In the box it looked like a pretty white crystal snowflake. We hit the demo button and it lit up nice and pretty and white for a millisecond. We got it home, plugged it into the tree, and realized we bought a psycho disco ball snowflake tree topper.

It flashes in brilliant colours at high strobe light intensity. Bro was sitting in the living room watching a Habs game and complained that it was giving him a headache. Apparently the bad TSN feed last night didn't help either. He was texting me game scores and highlights while I was at work.

Pic doesn't even begin to do it justice.

"I can feel an epileptic fit coming on," was one of his favourites. Thankfully the feed cleared after several minutes. "Seizure averted."

Mom and I sat down to watch the PVR'd game after work, and avoided the disco ball strobe light flickering off the TV by throwing back some rum and coke. When she declined a refill due to her cold I called her a pussy, so naturally she decided she wanted one.

"I'm not a pussy! Get me another drink. You can tend on me for a change. I'm sick over here, what with you giving me the plague."

Did I mention she's on facebook now? I suppose I should take it easy on her on these blog posts, but I like to live dangerously.

Speaking of living dangerously, I sent my Dad an email about how I can't sleep anymore because I'm so afraid to fly what with not having any natural feathers growing out of my skin and all, and that I keep envisioning my own death via a fiery plane crash and am convinced I'll never make it back to Canada if I go to visit him in Panama after Christmas.

He wrote me back saying my fears were silly and that it was just my first international flight and to read a book or something during the flight. He really only finds it tough because he's a smoker and when he gets to jonesing for a ciggy he tends to find the flight long.

I wrote back and said how I was too cheap to cancel the whole thing so I'll come regardless and he replies that he's glad I got over all that silly fear.

Uh... that's not what I said. I said I was a cheapskate and I'll suck it up and get on the plane and try not to embarass myself. That's as good as it's likely to get. I'll resign myself to my fate. Que sera sera.

Speaking of fate, it smiled on me last night for a change instead of merely tormenting, and I got the last spot on evening shift at work. This means I don't have to go back to midnights, which tends to unleash Uber-Cranky Roz.

I went over to my supervisor. "I don't see you doing a happy dance since you got news you get to keep me on this shift. Where's the excitement?"

"I did it in private," he said in his snooty British accent, then sent me into coding mail for the third time that night. I swear he hates me, but he told Mom he sends me in there so much because I'm really good at it.

So if I'm good in bed, does this mean I should be a call girl?

We gave our friend, Little Red, her Christmas present. She was delighted by the bottle of Newfoundland wine, but totally tickled by the wee Toronto Maple Leafs gloves designed for hanging off car mirrors. We've had a Habs one for years.

"Don't tell anyone inside I bought Leafs gear," I warned Mom as we headed back into work.

To make myself feel better, I did buy something Habs related to compensate. Last season I gave Geoff Molson close to $1000 of my hard earned money. This year I've spent maybe $30. It's not that I'm making a statement here about his crappy hockey team. It's more like I don't really care.

At work the mail is piled through the roof and I got stuck in mail prep with The Gimp, a co-worker recently returned from knee surgery. He tried to smack talk me and Mom about returning from Newfoundland with our usual feed of moose, and it didn't take long for me to get disgusted with him.

"For God's sake," I told him. "That wasn't even a good attempt. Don't you know how to smack talk properly?"

I turned to Mom. "You'd think he was a Leafs fan or something."

He is a Leafs fan BTW. He also is usually first out of the parking lot at the end of the night, but I was determined to take him. The second we clocked out I got behind Mom and started literally shoving her up the stairs.

"Hurry! We can beat him! He's handicapped!"

The Gimp was ahead of us and trying to pull away, but I was relentless. Being a Habs fan I don't like to lose, particularly to a Leafs fan. Behind us our coworkers started laughing, agog that I was manhandling my mother up the stairs.

I launched her out the front door and The Gimp peeled off to the right to fetch his car from the secure parking lot while I dragged Mom to the guest parking in the front of the building. She jumped behind the wheel and burned rubber out of the lot.

They call us Thelma and Louise now.

"I'm not doing that again," said Mom when we got home. "I'm too sick. You gave me the plague."

Merry Christmas Jim Rutherford

2011-12-09T21:38:00.001-04:00

Gill's facepalm in Halifax, since I don't have a shot of my own.

I'm home sick tonight and on some mighty fine drugs sucking on a hot lemon (actually hot lemon water but it's pretty much the same gross thing), so naturally (not really) I thought I'd address the elephant currently parking its sizable butt in the middle of the Bell Center and settling in for the next 2 years.

Welcome to the Montreal Canadiens, Tomas Kaberle. And goodbye Jaroslav Spacek, a truly likable, natural comedian type of guy.

I'm trying hard to like this deal.

Kaberle has been an effective PP point man in the past when he was with the Leafs, who dealt him to the eventual Cup winning Bruins for a nice first rounder.

The problems I'm having with this particular elephant are the following "bombs" he's about to drop all over the ice:

He was pretty much a non-factor in the Bruins cup run. He did not help their power play troubles, but suddenly he's the magic bullet for the Habs power play woes? Colour me skeptical.

He hasn't done much in Carolina either for the Hurricanes. With only 9 assists and his last goal scored way back in February / March 2010, and he's a complete "turn over machine" according to TSN. Kaberle's recent track record is hardly impressive when it comes to instilling confidence in his ability to quarterback the power play in the absence of Andrei-my-knee-is-a-running-joke-Markov.

Also not helping a whole lot with my ability to like this trade is Jim Rutherford, the Carolina GM who knocked Kaberle for being out of shape at the beginning of camp and stated that he should have known better than to sign the former Bruins defender to a hefty 3 year contract.

But the nail in the coffin is Rutherford's assessment of Kaberle's hit on his cap space, and how offloading him will allow for flexibility next off-season.

I guess then, that same cap flexibility is not as important to Geoff Molson or Pierre Gauthier. Never mind the fact that PK Subban, Josh Gorges and Carey Price all need to be resigned after this season and that they will demand healthy raises and represent the core future of this team.

It's all about the playoff revenue for Molson, who apparently was only paying lip service with the whole fandom schtick, and still another patch for the always leaky roof. And in patching the leaky roof they are taking yet another Cinderella fairy tale road to the whole Stanley Cup playoffs.

Money doesn't just make the world go round, it's apparently the center of the Habs universe.

The optimists among the fanbase tend to remind me that Kris Versteeg benefited from a change of scenery, and that Kaberle may do so also. But the fact is that there's no guarantee that Kaberle will be a Versteeg and not a Benoit Pouliot, who had a nice little time for himself at the first in Montreal but eventually reverted to his non-fulfilling form and wandered off into the sunset.

Kaberle won't be wandering anywhere for another 2+ years and that is a long time to own a high-priced underachiever, since we seem to have a plethora of them on the squad right now as it is.

The optimists are also saying that if Kaberle's numbers go up, he may well be dealt after this season, as will Scott Gomez. To this I say - not bloody likely.

If I am a GM of a team that needs to make the cap floor, Scott Gomez is still going to be one of my very last resorts. No fan will appreciate that albatross of a contract for a player who has struggled as mightily and as publicly as he has the past couple of seasons. Unless I can't buy anyone else, I'm not even going to glance in Gomez's direction.

And when's the last time the Habs waived a veteran player to the AHL for cap relief? It's just not going to happen. If the new CBA has a no-penalty buy out clause perhaps Gomez can be bought out, but I'm not convinced Molson is willing to drop a few million just to buy cap space he will have to pay to someone else.

Jim Rutherford is snickering publicly at the Habs and Pierre Gauthier and thanking Santa for the early Christmas present. TSN is openly laughing at the Montreal Canadiens organization on the air. None of the mainstream media who are close to the team and whose opinions I value - Dave Stubbs, Mike Boone, Eric Engels, MA Godin - think this is a good deal for the team.

Perhaps Kaberle will fix the power play. And perhaps he won't.

This whole deal strikes me as a Hail Mary play to get this team into the playoffs so Geoff Molson can reap some big money in the post-season, and a desperate last ploy by Gauthier to right the ship instead of going down with it. That does not strike me as the actions of an organization that is determined to build a legitimate Cup contender.

My brother said it best: "Send us your tired and aging, your overpaid, your underachieving, the wretched refuse of your hockey teams. The Montreal Canadiens are becoming a retirement home for aging, washed up players."

I wrote recently that Molson may have had no actual faith in Gauthier, since the latter wasn't wheeling and dealing like last year when all the injuries hit.

First of all, sorry about that. And second, it seems Molson has plenty of faith that Gauthier will show him the money so to speak. And I have lost pretty much all faith that anything is going to change for the better within this organization under Molson's ownership.

We're going to own Kaberle and Gomez until 2013-2014. I guess 18 years of mediocrity just weren't enough.

Merry Christmas Jim Rutherford, signed Your Not-So-Secret Santa.

Into the Fire

2011-11-26T23:12:00.001-04:00

Look it's the only photo of Sid I have, okay?

So Sidney Crosby returns to Montreal and since the Toronto Maple Leafs aren't playing CBC's staple Hockey Night in Canada is in the free and clear to broadcast a Habs game without worrying about alienating anyone except me because if there' s one thing I can't abide it's an ass kisser.

RDS is not much better but at least they spread it around and gush over pretty much all French Canadians and not just Crosby. It's great that Montreal fans recognize he's a key player for the sport and treat him accordingly but I don't need the point rammed down my throat every 3.5 seconds, which is about what time I pegged the regularity of "praise Crosby" remarks by the network.

Meanwhile the NHL's referees who continue to alienate not only Habs fans, but from what I'm gleaning off twitter pretty much hockey fans in general. Before we get to the brutal non-call though, there are other things on my mind.

Is there any country other than Canada where it's socially acceptable to ditch people to watch a hockey game? I think not, which means that I live in the greatest country on the planet.

Raphael Diaz is going to be the death of me. He makes me miss Jaroslav Spacek, and that is no small thing. I know St-Denis is young, but I'd have taken the chance and parked Diaz in the pressbox instead. Unfortunately for St-Denis, Jacques Martin does not concur.

Diaz is small and young and green, and he makes his rookie mistakes while paired with another "rookie" Alexei Emelin. Emmy's getting better and earning his ice time, but he's ill qualified to pick up for Diaz's mistakes.

Bylsma taking advantage by mixing up his lines and forcing his top players on the rookie duo caused all kinds of havoc for Montreal. This is what an adaptable coach with foresight and quick thinking can do to benefit his team.

The hit on Kris Letang by Max Pacioretty: questionable. If there was clear consistency in Brendan Shanahan's ruling I'd know which way to vote here but I don't trust Shanahan much more than I trusted Colin Campbell, which was about as far as I could throw him.

Depending on the replay angle it looks like a straight hit that Letang ducked into, or else an unintentional bad one. The fact is Letang bled on the ice after contact was made to the head, so it will likely be reviewed, as it should be.

People can draw comparisons to Campoli all they want, but no two hits are identical and as the referees in tonight's game so perfectly illustrated, us humans are disgustingly fallible. A minor penalty should have probably been called, but a suspension would not surprise me. I look forward to seeing Shanahan either justify one, or defend not issuing one. Either way no one is going to be happy.

Speaking of happy, Hal Gill and Carey Price weren't happy with the refs blowing the game for them. Should the whistle have been blown? Yes. Absolutely. Price had padded / gloved that puck for several heartbeats and I've seen quicker whistles for looser pucks.

Anticipating a whistle the Habs stopped skating and the Pens continued to press unmolested in the crease, eventually diggin the puck away from Price and past him into the Habs net. Props to the Pens for not anticipating a whistle, but continuing to play regardless. And yes the refs blew it, but the Habs did too.

Remember that two goal lead Montreal enjoyed at one point? The refs did their bit to help maintain that too, disallowing not one but two Penguins goals. The chances they were going to disallow a third (which they clearly couldn't blame on Chris Kunitz this time) were about 10 trillion to 1.

The two goals the refs disallowed were the right calls to make, but the Habs were never going to get a third unless Letang (bloody shirt also against the rules Letang) picked up that puck and threw a curve ball into the net.

If the Habs had managed to come out with some fire in their belly in the 2nd and 3rd and continued to play as they had in the 1st then there'd be no bitching about a stupid blown ref call in overtime because the game would never have gone into overtime in the first place.

And this is where I have to wonder if the Habs lauded leadership group is as "off" as Michael Cammalleri, who has turned from a playoff calibre sniper into a defensive non-scoring liability.

Cammalleri hasn't looked right to me all season and I'm not buying the injury excuse either. He won't take a hit to make a play and is showing signs of frustration and snakebite. Travis Moen has more goals than Cammy (and everyone except Pacioretty). I've got Cammy in a hockey pool and I'm wishing to hell I'd taken Moen instead. It's that bad.

I can take Cammy not scoring - they all go through slumps (ask Gomez) - but that Cammy / Pleky (is he hurt) / Gionta line needs to be dismantled. It's a disaster and I get that Cole and Desharnais and Pacioretty are working well together, but swap out Gio and Cole then because Pleky's line needs size and better forechecking and defense by someone other than just Tomas Plekanec.

Speaking of Gionta, I have long backed him as team captain but I'm starting to wonder. Not only does he seem to not fire up his team mates and help refocus them between periods, he can't do it for himself anymore either. Neither does the coach. Perhaps they should be drinking cases of Red Bull between periods.

There are times a little ass kicking is in order and when Montreal constantly returns to the ice and morphs from Jeckyll into Hyde - that's one of those times. Gio was my pick to step up to that plate and I'm thinking that - as usual - I don't know jack shit and what's Larry Robinson up to these days anyway?

I read the Roy biography and I remember how Robinson straightened out his team and in particular a cocky young kid and perhaps Gio and Gill and Markov ought to read it. Maybe I can send them a copy as a Christmas gift, with the relevant passages highlighted. I dunno.

Until these Habs find a bit of fire in their belly, find a way to overcome the mental lapses that sees them stop skating when up a couple of goals, and stop returning to the ice almost lacksadasical after intermissions, I don't expect much to change no matter what Don Cherry says.

And since when does Don Cherry go soft on the Habs and hard on Crosby? It has been a long time since I agreed with him and it feels strange... like I lost a tooth or something and my tongue keeps digging around in my mouth searching for it.

From where I sit this team still hovers near the .500 mark and that's just not going to be good enough. If the Habs are still in this boat come Christmas, will Pierre Gauthier make a move? Will Geoff Molson?

Or are the Habs brass going to be content with one win, one loss, rinse and repeat for the rest of the season, with the occassional loser point bonus to offer up hope that 80+ points will mean the Habs make the post-season show and generate that holy of holies: playoff revenue?

Quick and Dirty

2011-11-22T13:40:00.001-04:00

Some of my fave Habs fans!

What with everything that's been going on offline, my online time is down considerably. Couple that with my new evening shift and it means I'm usually watching hockey games a couple of hours after the fact or even a day or two later.

Gotta love PVR.

1. I keep waiting for the Habs to make their way up to .500 hockey level so my current apathy will give way to some mild interest. Meanwhile a good game versus Boston, but 2 points is 2 points and this team can't string together back to back wins let alone 8 or 9.

2. When it comes to Boston things are always heated between the teams but at least there's some healthy respect there, which is something the two fanbases ought to try to emulate. The brawl at the Bell is just the latest facepalm moment. I've met and enjoyed some good natured rivalry with fine, friendly and hockey savvy Boston fans despite being a die hard Habs fan myself. Unfortunately there isn't a sport which doesn't have some good old fashioned idiots to tarnish the rest of us decent fans. Mainstream media and high profile bloggers constantly egging on the idiots doesn't help either.

3. I took down the Hockey Cards page on this site. It's woefully out of date and a better database with accompanying photos is available on facebook.

4. Whenever the Habs play a good game people are quick to laud Jacques Martin and point out how his fabulous system got them the win. There's some truth in that to be sure, but this coach still rolls out Scott Gomez and Brian Gionta on the power play instead of Erik Cole and Max Pacioretty, who are the best two forwards on the team.

5. Speaking of Erik Cole, I don't get why a big, scoring power forward like him who consistently gives the opposition fits, sees the ice less than Travis Moen. Again, that goes back to the coach and it's stuff like this that makes me think Jacques Martin is less interested in actually doing what's best for the team and more interested in doing it his way or the highway.

6. I don't miss Jaroslav Spacek except in post-game pressers.

7. According to mainstream media, Andrei Markov is allowed to take contact in practice. Coincidentally, this is the first time this season where I didn't roll my eyes or heave a sigh when hearing anything about Markov. That said, when he actually hits the ice and assuming he lasts more than 7 games get back to me.

8. I don't miss Benoit Pouliot at all, not even for the poo jokes.

9. It's good Sid the Kid is back and had a helluva night, putting up 4 points, but to put things in a bit of perspective it was the Islanders. Just saying.

10. I read the Emelin piece on the Canadiens website. I saw his hits from last night's game and I saw him play the games before that. I like this kid a lot. We're keeping him right? And Josh Gorges too? Beyond this season I mean.

11. I read the Jacques Martin interview. He seems like a good, swell guy with a sense of humour. I still have no faith in him as a Stanley Cup calibre coach.

12. Got into a bit of a twitter discussion about the possible trading of PK Subban for Eric Staal. Rumors always abound with this team and they're pretty much never accurate. Since I was asked: no, I don't see the Habs dealing Subban and no, I don't think the struggling Hurricanes will trade Staal either.

13. I also don't see Jarome Iginla coming to the Habs for Yannick Weber, a high draft pick and a currently-untradeable-because-he's-injured Andrei Kostitsyn which is another rumor. Like I told the tweep who asked me: 99.9% of Habs rumors are BS and as far as the .1% goes even a blind squirrel can find a nut once in a while.

Status update on my family drama: uncle still on life support and no change. Mom and Auntie Em are returning home today.

I'm currently in the process of redesigning this site, so please bear with me through the upheavals. Links to my fab fellow bloggers should reappear sooner rather than later, once I get to spend some quality time with my computer. Apologies for the disruption and the delay.

Coming Around Again

2011-11-19T13:58:00.001-04:00

My grandmother aka "Nan".

There's a lot going on right now, and in an effort to distract myself from things I don't want to think about and worry and stress over but will do so anyway, here's the tale of my recent trip to Newfoundland to visit my grandmother.

The trip itself was uneventful, at least for me. We got off work early, ran some errands, then packed and I slept for an hour before Auntie Em came to collect us in her teeny little blue car around 4 am. We squeezed in and I made myself comfy and slept in the back.

Sometimes it's good to be fun sized.

We got to the ferry and cooled our jets on the lot as we waited to board.

Auntie Em took a look at her receipt. She had admitted to being a senior citizen and received a discount.

"I just saved $1.30".

"For $1.30 I wouldn't even admit to being a senior," said Mom.

After years of traveling on their ferries, Auntie Em has little love for Marine Atlantic. "Fuck them! They're not getting my $1.30. If I go across 3 or 4 times I save enough to buy something."

Mom and I were laughing by then. "A coffee!" I told them. "You can buy yourself a cup of coffee after 2 trips!"

I slept most of the way across the Gulf of St. Lawrence. This was the first time I'd ever been on the Vision and unlike a lot of family I've spoken to I liked it a lot better than the old ferries. It's smaller but laid out better if you ask me.

The Rainbow Bright styled lounge was a bit hard on the eyes but I liked the bench seats and since there was almost no one on the boat I had plenty of space and quiet to stretch out and nap.

The colourful lounge on the Vision ferry.

Once I awoke we decided to head in for dinner and again, huge improvement here. There's a decent restaurant atmosphere instead of the former school cafeteria and the food has improved greatly also.

No more undercooked cold French fries and soggy expensive hot dogs. We enjoyed soup and fresh bread, followed by two nice sized pieces of fresh cod, and a strawberry shortcake and coffee for dessert for around $17 including taxes. If we had preferred we could have chosen baked lasagna or braised beef instead.

Dinner didn't start out that great for me though. I had half of my slice of fresh bread gone and Auntie Em picked up her slice, looked at it for a few seconds, then sniffed it.

"Is something amiss?" I asked, suddenly having visions of moldy bread. I had no wish to be sick.

Mom saw the look of disgust and horror on my face and burst out laughing. "She just does that. Nan does it too."

"Yeah I don't know why," said Auntie Em, and to my relief started chowing down on the bread.

When the crowd is large there is a buffet to choose selections from, and there's a second bar in the restaurant area as well. The gift shop is smaller and still pricey, but I like the plethora of Newfoundland products some of which I had never seen before.

Mom and Auntie Em in the Vision restaurant.

We rolled off the boat and headed to the liquor store which - squeeeeeeeee - takes Air Miles, something that will also happen in Nova Scotia in February. Considering what I drop on booze every payday, especially during hockey season, I should be able to fly around the world for free inside of six months.

As Auntie Em chauffeured us down the town's main street, I started taking deep breaths.

If you've never lived by the sea the thing you'd notice most is the smell. There's salt in the air, salt in the earth, and salt in your skin. If you don't love salt maybe you'd better stick to the mountains, but I was born by the sea and have lived with its aroma the better part of my life so it's like perfume to me.

My grandmother's house has its own smell too. When I was a child it was mostly baking smells overriding even the saltiest fog air. The delicious scents of fresh baked bread, apple pies, blueberry grunts, banana bread and lemon loaf wafted through her kitchen on any given day.

Her health is such that she doesn't bake her own goodies anymore, and the salty sea air has long since permeated her home.

Nan was sitting at her kitchen table working on her latest jigsaw puzzle when we walked in. She had expected only Mom and got Auntie Em and me as well. She was so surprised she couldn't complete her first two sentences as she stared up at Mom in shock.

"What are you doing... I thought you weren't coming..."

She finally spotted Auntie Em and me. "You fuckers!"

At 89 my grandmother's health is not the best, but it seems she's still got piss and vinegar to spare. This is good because she's going to need it.

Port-aux-Basques, if you don't care to google map it, is surrounded by water on three sides and is backed by the mountains on a fourth. There is always a wind blowing, and it's usually cold. The locals are used to it and anything above 20 degrees leads to widespread comparisons to tropical heat, melting, suffering and burning in the fiery pits of hell.

Halifax is much warmer and I've been living here for 20 years so my cold wind tolerance levels have dropped significantly and in my lightweight jacket I was ill prepared for the temperature difference. Even Nan agreed it was nippy, though she seemed unaffected by it.

She paused on her deck while I shivered and huddled behind her.

"Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey," she observed, apparently in no hurry to get warm.

"If we can find a brass monkey I'm perfectly willing to test that theory," I told her from between chattering teeth.

We spent the long weekend with her doing jigsaw puzzles and fortifying ourselves against the cold with copious amounts of rum. We also visited the relatives, both living and dead, and parked our asses on my cousin's couch to watch a Habs game.

I gave him one of our Stompin' Tom Habs bottle openers, which his four year old daughter Abby greatly enjoyed. She has a couple of Habs jerseys and her father, my cousin, has done a fabulous job of warping her into a Canadiens fan.

Though she's only four she knows her letters and I encouraged her to write to Santa Claus for the thing she wanted most, which is apparently a toy walking dog. So now in addition to drinking their booze and hogging their TV all night, I've put my cousin and his girlfriend on the hook for a $70 toy dog.

God knows why they didn't throw me out of their house for all that but then again they are good Newfoundland salt-of-the-earth types in addition to being blood, so they took it like troopers.

I also wrangled a personalized tour of the town by strong arming my cousin Sharon into playing tour guide. The photos of the storm spraying the rocks didn't come out as I had hoped but I did get a nice shot of the wharf which lay still and quiet in the harbour.

It's so much easier to enjoy the storm when you're not on the ferry during one. A coworker's family got held up for over a day in town because the ferry couldn't get through, but we beat it by coming over a day earlier than we had planned.

Dories nestled in the harbour next to the defunct fish plant.

During our stay we invited ourselves to dinner at my great aunt Flo's and absconded with a jacket and some jigsaw puzzles. Mom managed to get a coat and the very last bottle of bakeapple jam for my brother's wife Zee after some hard work whining about it for almost a half hour.

At the Salvation Army store I bought a nice black London Fog pea coat in mint condition for $6.25 and we got Nan a good winter coat for the same price as well. For Da Nephew we brought home a toy puffin he promptly named Pete and Bro got a hockey t-shirt.

Speaking of shirts, Zee has opened her own online store. It's called GirlFight and while I am obsessed with hockey, Zee is into kickboxing, so if that's your thing you might want to check it out.

If you follow me on twitter you know by now that my uncle was found lying freezing without proper clothing outside of his home in the early morning. He sustained a head injury and was rushed to hospital in Corner Brook by ambulance accompanied by a doctor and a nurse.

The man is a lifelong alcoholic and it seems his hard ways have caught up with him, as the doctors do not expect him to survive the night. While we were not close and I will not pretend care for him, I do not wish that on anyone let alone a blood relative.

He is my grandmother's last remaining son, her eldest boy having taken his own life years ago. Nan is full of piss and vinegar, but her own health is not good. She has suffered strokes which have weakened her heart and left her with a limp and requiring home care.

As I type my mother and Auntie Em are on their way back to Newfoundland to attempt to bring her comfort and deal with the necessary arrangements for my uncle. Thank you to all who have offered me their prayers and kind words, which have moved me to tears and brought me some comfort today. God bless.

Always Look on the Bright Side of Hockey

2011-11-06T01:31:00.000-03:00

I'm not sure what's irritating me more at the moment - losing the game or the incessant need to Pollyanna the hell out of it.

A loss is never a good thing for me. It just isn't.

Was the reffing questionable for tonight's Rangers / Habs game? Not really. It flat out sucked no question at all.

On Hockey Inside Out they're channeling the spirit of Monty Python with a song and dance that strongly resembles "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life". At least the Habs didn't quit and yada yada yada.

I wonder sometimes why the Canadiens organization made them change their website name from Habs Inside Out.

It's not like this press gallery ever says anything that would risk them being cut off from the scrum in which Jacques Martin likes to offer up such incredible insights as "Special teams were the difference" and one of the Leadership Group says "We did some good things and we need to build on that".

Hard to fault the source material - I'm a huge Python fan myself - but if bad officiating and a no quit attitude are the only bright side here it does not blind me to the dark side.

The Habs didn't quit but I did, right after Blunden got tagged for interference by the single most incompetent referee in the history of the game - Tim Peel. I saw this game a couple of times before and I didn't like it then either.

There was no question the Habs deserved a couple of those calls, but all of them? No.

And when the reffing is the talk of the night the game always sucks. Always. Whenever a score or the PIMs are that lopsided the game always sucks. Always. 8-1 PP advantage for the Rangers? And yet there will be no performance review and nothing will change and I'm not just talking about post-Habs game either.

If it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck chances are pretty damned good it's Tim Peel or Chris Lee.

Here's the advantage of being a no-name blogger. I can say what I want without getting getting my credentials and access revoked.

If I thought for a split second that Martin and this team as it stands would win the Stanley Cup or hell, even legitimately contend for it this season, I probably would drop the grand or so it would cost me to go to Montreal, take in a game and buy expensive souvenirs. But I don't and won't.

Of course I'm a fan. Of course I would love to be wrong. Of course I will still root for them and buy their expensive gear anyway. That's what I do. But it doesn't render me delusional either except when it comes to my spending habits and I prefer to think of it as an exercise in creative budgeting.

You want delusional try trolling some of the fan boards. My two current faves are trading Scott Gomez for Shea Weber outright or else the Habs tanking so that they can have current top rated draft pick Nail Yakupov.

In the first place, even if PG got that deal done either thru bribery or threats, it would get overturned by Bettman (and rightfully so). Secondly, in Montreal we do not tank. We maintain mediocrity and continually fill the Bell Centre seats and pretend that we have a snowball's chance in hell.

The four game win streak was really nice but did it have me suddenly thinking that all was right and fixed and that we'd make a run for it this year? No, it did not. I still took shots at Jacques Martin on The Bleacher Report.

This pre-lockout trap system is not what this team is built for. They don't have the size or the grit and are not the New Jersey Devils and Jacques Martin is not Pat Burns.

This coach has never won a damned thing. His lifetime coaching record is barely above the .500 mark. Stats for the 2 teams he coached prior to coming to Montreal increased after he left those organizations. But hey he speaks French and isn't pandering to RDS really what it's all about? That and money of course.

When this team stops focusing on being politically correct and concentrates more on being what they are - a damned hockey team - instead, maybe THEN they'll legitimately contend.

So how much longer do we have to wait for the saviour Markov to return to renew our thin spread hope (at least until someone breaths on him too hard and his glass knee shatters again)?

You know my brother wrote a blog wherein he said that we should have let Markov go because at best we'd get a half season out of him and for that money and considering he only played 7 games last season it wasn't much of a deal.

A lot of people took him to task for it, including me, but when the best you can hope for from a high profile cornerstone player is half a season and a lot of praying that he doesn't get reinjured it's hard to believe that Markov didn't get the sweeter end of that stick while he suns his ass down on a Florida beach for two weeks.

This team is too small. They turtle to protect leads and rely too heavily on their goaltender to bail them out. They scramble in their own end when they get scored on - a mental fragility I bitched about last year too. They take stupid penalties, many of which they often deserve.

Jacques talks a good game about puck possession and discipline but there are nights it's sadly lacking. He talks about special teams and spends too much time sending out his pets on power plays instead of those that are producing.

Darche over Cole? OK Cole's in and Kostitsyn is out. Cole scores and he stays on the PP. But Darche remains. Why? He has 3 power play goals in his 101 NHL games.

God love his heart but it's not like the league has been just waiting for this guy, you know? He's a marginal replaceable player who happens to speak French and has a French name and if he was called Darwin would not have been given a second glance by the Habs.

Meanwhile AK46, who has been working his ass off, is big and mean and goes to the net like Darche does and parks his fat ass there too, and is much more likely to score, gets dropped from the power play. Tonight someone bought a clue and put AK back on the power play and 'lo the seas did parteth and a goal was scored.

This is a prime example of why I have no faith in this coach. You want some more?

A six million dollar sniper who is a defensive liability on the penalty kill.

An overworked over-his-head centerman on the point on the power play.

A seven year courtship of a sorely needed, hard hitting, big bodied, talented defensemen parked in the press box.

A four million dollar high profile even strength scoring power forward at eleven minutes a night on the third line.

A talentless but hardworking pet journeyman on the power play over proven goal scorers.

Yes I know the last two have been fixed but it should never have happened in the first place.

While Tortorella was smirking and bitching behind his bench Martin said nothing. Not a damned word. He didn't even flick an eyebrow. Forget snapping at the refs. TALK TO YOUR PLAYERS.

Here's me talking to the team post-game AKA yelling at my TV / computer. Yes I'm weird like that.

JM: "Special teams were the difference."

Tonight's translation: "We took some dumbass penalties but the refs weren't having a great night either."

Any single one of the players: "We did some good things and we need to build from that."

Me: "Try not slashing, hooking, tripping or diving so much for a start. And quit trying to fight because you all suck at it, including Moen, who is terribly overrated."

Two playoffs ago when the Habs went into the ECF I predicted that we'd own Martin for longer than we should because Halak was hot. I'm not retracting that anytime soon.

Do I see clear progress and growth happening before my very eyes?

Well there's Price and Pacioretty and Subban and I suppose Eller too, but it seems we are bound to wait another few years for some more mid-range draft picks to mature before we can be cautiously optimistic about another 25th Cup.

In the meantime we can scrape in to the playoffs, just miss it, and either way draft mid-tier and over rate our prospects and current players. I would love to be wrong here, and I hope to hell I am in which case feel free to rub my nose in it 5 months or so.

Hell I could be dead by then, or have converted to being a Leafs fan, which is really the same thing.

As it stands we are about to hit year 20 of a 5 year rebuild. Someone's watch is way off, and since I just reset all my clocks for Daylight Savings (fall back an hour folks), it's not me.

It's Like a Disease

2011-10-22T13:43:00.001-03:00

My mother with one of her obsessions.

We all have our obsessions. It's part of the human condition, is it not?

Mine are mostly restricted to books and hockey. If I'm alone on a desert island and not allowed to bring a boat to get off of there, I'd probably bring the Habs, the Jets (who are suddenly the only team the Habs can beat), and a hockey rink along with the contents of the entire Halifax Public Library network.

Not Mom. Mom would bring a laptop with an endless power supply so she could play Slotomania on Facebook.

I have a Facebook account which I use largely to keep in touch with people I have met online via various Facebook games, which I have subsequently lost interest in for the most part. I also keep in contact with family there and some of my Habs tweeps network.

The game playing is all Mom's though. Bro plays their games also, and sent me a link to a slot game he thought I'd play. I didn't, but Mom saw it and developed an instantaneous full blown addiction.

The game doles out points (fake coins to play with) every 4 hours. As you gain levels you get more points, and the game only gives you new points every 4 hours from the moment you collect, so it's important to collect regularly.

Plus it pays out worse than my brother, who is a notorious skin flint. Mom liked to horde points for a day, then blow them all at once, then bitch she was out.

Back when we were still on different shifts she'd warn me before leaving for work.

"Don't forget to collect my points!" Then she would call during her breaks. "Did you collect my points?"

"Yes, I got your stupid points. Why don't you just get your own account?" I asked her.

"I'm up to 3 million points," she told me, aghast. "I'd have to start all over! Plus I'm trying to catch Justin Justified and I'm gaining on him!"

She'd leave the computer on, get up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and click to collect her points before going back to bed. She still does it. It's that bad.

It got worse when Dad game to town for a visit before his usual winter jaunt south to Panama City. With Mom and I on the same shift, she took to calling him from work.

"Did you collect my points?"

"Yes, I collected your stupid points," he would reply, and return to playing solitaire or whatever it was he was hooked on.

One night she came home from work, got herself a nightcap and hopped onto Facebook to discover she had no points left.

"I played them," Dad confessed.

He had started playing since he was doing all the work, become an instant addict too, and had lost all the points he had been collecting for Mom all day.

My mother came out to where I was reading in the living room. "He lost all my points!" she complained to me, thrusting an accusatory finger at where my father was sleeping down the hall.

"That's too bad."

I was engrossed in the newest Stephanie Plum novel and hardly sympathetic, barely paying attention.

"He's YOUR father. Do something!"

What I did was form a compromise. When she's at work he'd play, and when she's home he wouldn't. Simple right?

We came home from work after midnight and he was still up, playing her game. My father has, for years now, gone to bed around 9 pm and he gets up at 5 am or thereabouts.

"He's still playing and what's he doing up at this hour?" She waited and waited and waited and finally threw him off the computer.

"Aren't you going to bed? It's past your bedtime!"

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm going. I'm going," he said, and reluctantly left her to it.

The next day I was reading again and this time she waited until I stopped, heaved a sighed, and looked up at her hovering over me.

"Now what?"

"He's standing over my shoulder and watching me play. When I got up to use the bathroom he took my seat!"

This was apparently a major criminal act so we tried another solution. Dad tried playing on Bro's account, but Bro plays his own game and there was inevitable conflict there also.

"Why don't you reactivate your old Facebook account?" I asked Dad. "That way you can both play at the same time."

So he did, and now while she's in one room playing on my account, he's in another playing on his.

"I can't get any points!" complained Dad.

I went online, got him 'game friends' who send him free gifts, and Mom is constantly sharing so he can collect too. He runs out a lot though but restricts himself to going on MY account and playing HER points while we are both at work.

"I can't get any gifts," he said bitterly yesterday. "All the damned vultures all the time..."

"Vultures?" I asked.

"Yes! When someone shares by the time I go to collect the points are all gone! I even play your mother's and share when she gets a hit but by the time I get back out to the dining room (where his computer is) they're gone too!"

Mom pointed out that his computer was a laptop unlike her desktop model, and maybe he should just take it into the room with him so he can collect the second he shares off her computer instead of running through to the dining room to beat the 'vultures'.

Apparently this is working.

Meanwhile Bro's hockey card obsession continues to grow rapidly, which means my lax database keeping has us woefully behind in what we have to wheel and deal. We have some beauty cards, but no one knows it because I've dropped the ball.

"Are you going to do the hockey cards this weekend," Mom shot at me the second I crawled out of bed this morning. "You know he's going to buy more this week and you'll fall even further behind."

"Where's my coffee?" I demanded, ignoring her totally.

This is usually my first question of the day, and with Dad visiting I'm usually treated to a nice, fresh, hot and free cup of coffee waiting for me on the counter when I get up. This morning there wasn't one there, and I was reduced to making a pot.

Oh the humanity...

In order to augment Da Nephew's hockey card collection, I wrote to the Habs and sent them cards and asked for autographs. Yesterday I got some back.

Tomas Plekanec signed and returned all 3 cards. One is for my nephew's collection, and will be displayed in a place of high honour as it rightfully deserves within The Shrine, as will the Gomez card.

As I promised Pleky, the other two are spoken for also. One is for Laura, and the other is a gift for a 14 year old son of a coworker. He's a good kid who loves the Habs and is hoping to finally see a game this year. I can totally relate.

What I found hilarious is that of the 3 cards I sent Scott Gomez, I only got one back and it wasn't a Habs card. I only had 3 of Gomez to begin with, and one is a New Jersey Devils card. That is the one he signed and sent back.

"He kept the two Habs cards?" Mom asked.

"Maybe he just likes them," I said, laughing. "I didn't really care for that one with the ugly striped jersey anyway."

Really how great was that of them to take the time to do that for my nephew? I've also got a signed Knuckles Nilan card for the collection too.

So now I have a third obsession, because the first two just weren't enough I guess.

And Mom's coming home soon, so I have to get off her computer which is where I'm writing this because it's linked to the scanner where I just scanned these cards to make you all jealous.

Anyway I have a new book to read. The waiting list for a hard copy of George R.R. Martin's Game of Throne series is typically several months, but an e-reader copy usually only takes a few days before it comes in. Gotta love it!

So what have you been obsessed with lately?

Bad Moon Rising

2011-10-20T01:53:00.000-03:00

I'm NORMAL I tell ya!

I don't know what's going on. Is it a full moon? Is it me? Has everyone ELSE jumped the shark?

At work we've got the Lazy Complainer (see previous blog), and now this week I'm also working with a total nutbar who moves at the speed of Sloth. I swear every time she walks past me the song Psycho Killer starts up in my head. And don't forget Mega Bitch (no it's not me this time). I've been rotating with all 3 this week. I'm either going to be suicidal or a total alcoholic by the time the week's over.

Last year I used to think that every time I watched a Habs game they'd automatically lose, so I stopped watching live (for a few games anyway). This year the only game I watched live - versus the Jets - the Canadiens won. Listen, I need the extra shifts okay? I just dropped more money for yet MORE car repairs and bought a new laptop cause it was either buy a new laptop or quit going online forevermore.

Not sure what's going on with the Habs other than they're losing games and apparently not really fixing it fast enough. It's great that they ran into a hot goalie and got the pass on that Sabres game, but the rest of the games (and I did watch my PVR for the others) still sucked except for the Winnipeg game and hey - they're really the Atlanta Trashers (that's not a typo) in disguise.

Read a post by Friedman in which he had interesting stats about teams who are not in playoff position by November 1st. I guess the old mantra is true. You can't win the Cup this early in the season but you sure can lose it.

I keep thinking that now that the Bruins are the Cup champs I can probably respect them a bit, and then shit goes down like it did the other night and that theory gets launched out the window pretty quick.

The Leafs constantly winning and the Habs constantly losing are not helping my workplace issues. A coworker and friend came up to me wearing a Leafs hat with a Stanley Cup on it.

"Your brother would love this hat," he told me.

"Sure he would," I agreed. "He'd love to piss on it."

The fact is I'm taking a hell of a lot of ribbing at work and if the Habs don't suck it up soon I'm going to have to stop going to work, and then I'll be poor and unable to go to Montreal to see them play and Geoff Molson will have to do without my hard earned cash that I had to withstand abuse for so it's going to be just one big vicious cycle and no one will be happy but the Leafs fans and who the hell wants that anyway?

I should be glad I have James Reimer in my hockey pool and not Carey Price, but I'm not. I should also be glad I won $10 betting on Varlamov when the Avalanche/Habs game went to a shootout, but I'm not. Damnit.

I've seen a lot of fans on twitter stating not to panic and all that, but frankly my stream (which gets throttled regularly I guess for being bad or something) does not show it. I guess I follow fairly stable people, which should be refreshing, but then I wonder why are they following me, because there are some times I am not so much and tonight is one of them.

After the work night from hell where everyone lost their minds (including me), had a mini meltdown and turned on each other like a pack of Habs fans after a loss (including me), I left the building, didn't pay attention to what I was doing and ran into a brick wall. Literally. Then I fell on my knees and scraped the front of my legs. You know how some people are naturally graceful and delicate? I'm the total opposite of that. I aspire to be a bull in a china shop someday.

So Malkin is likely back for the Habs/Pens game tomorrow night. And Cammalleri is likely not back for the Habs/Pens game tomorrow night. And I'm at work where I can get the full brunt of the Leafs fans AND the Pens fans smacktalking me AT THE SAME TIME. Oh joy.

See? This is why Captain Morgan is currently enjoying my hard earned cash and Geoff Molson is not. I tell ya the crap I go through for being a Habs fan should automatically qualify me for some kind of martyrdom nomination or at least a free drink or two.

OK I lied. Molson is enjoying my hard earned cash too. I ordered some more Habs bling from Avon again and it'll be in tomorrow afternoon, just in time for the game. I'm going to have to post guards around my locker I guess.

I'm pretty sick of hearing about Andrei Markov's knee. I'm willing to bet Andrei Markov is pretty sick of his actual knee. Either way, until I hear "Markov is returning to full contact practice" I've pretty much lost all interest in all things Andrei Markov and his glass knee.

And while I'm complaining about Markov let me just take a moment here to thank Pierre Gauthier for not landing Rick DiPietro. Thanks Ghost!

I'm totally wired. Can you tell? Is it Friday yet?

R.E.S.P.E.C.T. or the Bite Me Rant

2011-10-11T18:01:00.003-03:00

Pic has nothing to do with this rant. I just like it.

Bro was at work and a Leafs fan decided to sass him.

"First in the league!" the Leafs fan crowed.

"Yeah? And how'd that work out for you last year?" shot back Bro, who is never hard up for a snappy comeback.

End of conversation.

I can't pretend to like the Leafs or even respect them a lot of the time, even if the exact opposite is true of their fans, some of whom I consider good friends despite their penchant to constantly hassle me at work or take trips down to Florida without inviting me along.

You know what I don't respect? Fanbase bashers. You know of whom I rant.

On twitter today there were a couple of helpful twitter guideline / hints from some Habs fans.

One was from a guy I used to respect who has taken to popping up on twitter just long enough to bash Habs fans for having an opinion that does not seem to conform to his or to the official party line of the Montreal Canadiens. He lurks long enough to shoot up just long enough tweet an insult to the fanbase before vanishing. And yet somehow the fanbase is lacking for *GASP* daring to HAVE AN OPINION ON TWITTER!

Yes I know it's totally shocking. What the hell are we thinking, having thoughts of our own and all, especially if we are looking at recent history and stats as a basis for forming said opinions? I mean the actual gall of moi and others to form differing opinions and dare to state it (a benefit of living in a free and modern society) is clearly outrageous.

Helpful hint number two came from someone who stated that being a Habs fan is supposed to be fun and that those who turn it into a debate need to rethink their priorities.

Personally I think that someone who won't use twitter to listen to viewpoints other than their own have much bigger problems than screwed up priorities. I've never considered using twitter as a vehicle to have my ego-stroked. I have my mother for that and she charges big money to do it too (a 1.5L of rum pegs for over $50 in Nova Scotia).

IN MY OPINION - If you want to call yourself a Habs fan and bitch about the team that's your right. If you want to just love away that's your right too. But if all you want to do is slag other Habs fans who do either, both or none of the above, you might want to get yourself some courtesy lessons. I don't tolerate it in real life either, where there's inconveniently no block feature.

IN MY OPINION - cause hey this is MY fucking blog - twitter is all about broadening your thoughts, your horizons and designed precisely to encourage debate, to engage in points of view that you would never consider on your own, regardless of whether or not you choose to agree or disagree.

I was on the debating team in high school. I wrote in college newspapers. I launched, wrote for and edited a newspaper for a national corporation. Point is debate is fun for me, as is the diversity of varying opinions.

And yes, this no nonsense attitude totally carries into real life too.I don't have online / offline split personalities. I am me, warts and all.

Last week at work a co-worker wanted to bitch about other co-workers who wanted the fans on while she felt cold, despite the fact that her sweater was hanging on a rack about 2 feet away from where she was working.

It would have been easier for her to just put on the sweater, and I told her so, but this was not what she wanted to hear. She wanted justification for working herself into a snit and the others not choosing to sweat near the hot machines so she wouldn't have to wear her sweater I guess.

Her cries fell on deaf ears and her arm waving and ranting left me unimpressed. After a couple of minutes I put an end to it.

"It's like elementary school around here," I told her. "And what with having graduated a long time ago and all, I don't have the patience for it anymore."

That was the end of that particular conversation too.

She sulked for 5 minutes before deciding to talk to me again, this time having shifted her rage to a different co-worker for a different infraction, at which point I promptly left her company and went to work in another section.

Patience is not one of my virtues. Can you tell?

The More Things Change

2011-10-07T01:56:00.003-03:00

Love the facepalm Skillsy. Know how you feel.

... the more they stay the same. Isn't that how the old adage goes?

So it's another season and the Maple Leafs are off to a roaring good start while the Canadiens drop yet another season opener. *yawn*

Before my Leafs readers plan the parade, perhaps y'all might want to glance backwards at last year's opener first. Before my fellow Canadiens fans jump off the Pont Champlain y'all might want to look back at last season too.

The team that went into the post-season had rouge in their sweaters to go along with the bleu et blanc.

It's one game. Do not take any sudden drastic action just yet!

What disturbs me about this one game is the lack of goal scoring. Again.

Wasn't Erik-I'm-suddenly-a-four-million-dollar-third-liner-Cole supposed to fix this? Weren't the Habs newly retooled offensive lines - which also got blanked in preseason (but it didn't count because it was only preseason and supposedly in no way an indicator that Montreal will come in 25th in the league in even strength scoring again this season) - supposed to be so much deeper now that we can afford to put one of our better goal scorers on the 3rd line with a journeyman and a sophomore center?

Look I love David Desharnais as much as the next girl - perhaps more because I have a penchant for little people like me (squeeeeeee Gio!) - but he's no Tomas Plekanec or Scott Gomez (yet). I loved the Gomez / Cole chemistry which for me was one of the few highlights of the Halifax game versus the Bruins. Naturally Cole got ripped of Gomez's wing roughly around five seconds after that game was over.

I also get the whole bit about how Mathieu Darche is a great guy and hey I like him just fine too. What I dislike is that he's on the power play more than Cole, and it's not like Darche is jockeying for Cole's job either since they're both on the third line together... Ya I still don't get why they are together either.

Darche may be a good guy who fits and is important in the room, but he simply does not belong on a power play, especially when you are down by a couple of goals.

Naturally all this circles back to my favorite target: Jacques Martin.

I get that he prefers defensive play and he's calling the shots. I myself prefer a little bit more of offensive mentality but alas, I am not calling the shots and really it's probably for the best anyway or there would be some serious screaming after a night like this and I'm not as cute and cuddly like Bruce Boudreau when I do it either. Think Banshee Girl instead.

The fact remains that when you are rewarding your popular journeyman over your $4 million dollar proven goal scorer then it comes across as blatant favoritism, and I find that truly hard to support in a hockey manager. It shouldn't be about who he likes best, but who is best able to get the job done and Darche - God love him for trying - is far less likely than Cole to score with the man advantage.

Speaking of the power play, is this experiment with Plekanec on the point over yet? No? Well then I'll just be going for snacks when the Habs get a power play then, cause there's no way to score with him circling circling circling the puck and Subban wearing two or three defenders in the meantime.

I'm a huge Pleky fan but for the life of me I don't get the logic behind having him there at all when he is pretty much guaranteed to never rifle a shot from the point on net. What's wrong with someone who actually has a proven cannon - like Yannick Weber? Hell even Jaroslav Spacek would be better (OK maybe not) and certainly Alexei Emelin cannot do any worse, can he?

And it seems Jacques has also decided that Michael Cammalleri ought to concentrate less on scoring and more on penalty killing. I'm pretty sure I saw him on the PK, though I'm hoping it was just the vino causing some hallucinations.

Cammy is a sniper. He is not a penalty killer, and I damned well hope this particular experiment dies a sudden and brutal death.

Speaking of brutal - did PK Subban ever have one of THOSE nights.

It's gonna happen. It's not rookie season and then you graduate and never make a mistake ever again. There's nights his exuberance and yes - inexperience still - will work against the Habs and unfortunately this was one of those nights. I expect Hal Gill and the coaches will help him lock it down a lot quicker than he did last season, which Martin believed necessitated a brief stint in the pressbox to accomplish.

While I'm on the subject of defense, it seems Chris Campoli is now one of the walking wounded. The Habs started last season off with too many men on the IR and now they're at it again.

During last season's constant plague of injuries I joked that I'd offer up Sean Avery as a sacrifice to the Hockey Gods if they'd let the Habs stay healthy, but I'm thinking the Hockey Gods took care of that one already for me.

Wonder what Matt Cooke's up to these days. Hey Matt, if you're reading this, call me!

Scattered thoughts courtesy of too much delicious Valpolicella:

There was a decided lack of teamwork or flow at times, and while I get that Jacques prefers that his players can play with anyone on any combo to allow for greater depth, it would be nice if he didn't tinker so much with the lines this season but allowed some chemistry to form before blowing it all to smithereens again.

Y'know. Like he did in preseason when he found some with Gomez and Cole and decided it was better to discard it rather than encourage and nurture it.

Yes I'm still irritated by that. I know I bitched about it pretty much all throughout last season too. Whatdya want? I did point out that I'd been drinking after all (thank God for spell check).

I'm glad I don't have PK Subban in any of my hockey pools, at least not yet. I'm pretty sure I should be glad that I have James Reimer, but I guess I'm not that drunk after all.

One of these days the Habs will play a good, strong, second period of hockey and I'm worried that the shock may kill me.

I still hate Mike Komisarek. I hated him when he was with Montreal, and now that he's not with Montreal anymore the only thing I like about him is that he is not with Montreal anymore. I got nothing else when it comes to Komisarek and thinking about him for any length of time renders me slightly nauseous and totally irritated.

Speaking of Toronto I'd like to wish they'd make the playoffs, but my huge fear is that if the Habs ever had to face them in the playoffs whatever mental block Montreal has got going on (FOR YEARS NOW) that will not allow them to win a game against the Leafs will also manifest itself there as well, in which case I would probably have to give up hockey-watching forever.

I'm not sure why the Canadiens have so long continued to exhibit signs of a psychological block when it comes to Toronto (FOR YEARS NOW) and I'm no doctor, but I'm pretty sure a solid and routine ass-kicking of the Leafs and other lesser teams would go a long way towards curing it.

Why DO the Habs seemingly always come out half-hearted in games they should dominate against inferior teams? Why do they win games against superior opponents? Why does their second period almost always suck? Are they going to have breakable fragile game psyches for the beginning of this season too?

There are times I wish I was a sports psychologist so that even if I still didn't understand I could at least prescribe drugs.

I wonder sometimes (OK a lot) what an offensive minded coach would do with a team of small, speedy goal scorers who can move and transition the puck well.

Would he have his six million dollar snipers on the penalty kill?

Would he have his best centerman (sorry Gomez) running the point on the power play, anchoring the top line AND logging heavy minutes on the penalty kill all season long?

Would he give more power play time to a totally replaceable and unlikely to score journeyman instead of one of his proven goal scorers who thus far has done nothing to deserve his inexplicable demotion to the third line?

Would he allow his line combos to generate some chemistry or just rip them apart after every single loss?

Would he make a healthy scratch out of a big, solid, hard hitting, crease clearing defender that his team spent seven years courting before finally winning his hand, so to speak?

Well I don't know what an offensive minded coach would do. But I do know I sure as hell wouldn't. And I know Jacques Martin's style well enough to know that he did, and will more than likely continue to do so.

The problem with Martin is this: he's perfectly bilingual and largely competent. And that's about the best I can say about him.

Do I trust a coach who is merely competent to deliver a 25th Stanley Cup to Montreal? I must confess that I do not. But as there's a terribly small pool of perfectly bilingual, Cup-hungry, ass-kicking, well rounded and creative coaches with the requisite experience available for hire, I don't think Jacques Martin is in any danger of losing his job either.

Wasn't there a rumor last season the Canadiens were actually trying to extend his contract already? I truly dislike the very thought.

Martin doesn't focus on scoring goals. He focuses on not letting anyone else score them, and that's a huge problem because in order to win a hockey game you actually have to score some damned goals. Fairly often in fact, or at the very least consistently.

And based on last season, the season before last, this year's preseason and again tonight it seems the Habs can't.

And I don't trust this coach to use his players in such a way as to fix it either. Yeah I'm already back to laying everything at the feet of Jacques Martin again this season.

It seems that so far at least (only one game DO NOT PANIC) nothing has really changed for the injury riddled and scoreless Habs, or for me.

Hump Day Happenings

2011-10-05T13:49:00.001-03:00

The Andrei Markov wall is in pieces too...

I'm too lazy to type things in what should be a proper format, so y'all are getting the sticky notes version of mutterings and ramblings this morning. As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts in return please and thank you.

- The Habs returned Aaron Palushaj, Michael Blunden and Jeff Woywitka to their AHL affiliate Hamilton Bulldogs this morning. I'd feign surprise but watching the rookies all preseason and live and in person during their Halifax tilt with the Bruins, I remained skeptical that any would make the cut. None of them had a really great camp. I expect once Lars Eller returns from IR that Andreas Enqvist (I do so hate typing that name) will get sent down as well. Edited: Wow that was fast. Enqvist is now sent down, probably due to the Betts acquisition. With 22 on the roster (not counting those waiting on IR) what will PG do?

- Montreal claimed Blair Betts off waivers from Philly. Gotta admit this one surprised me. Not because Betts isn't a good fit - he will bring some PK and much-needed faceoff ability - but because whenever Habs fans point out that Pierre Gauthier should do this or Pierre Gauthier should do that, Pierre Gauthier tends to (rightfully) ignore the hell out of us. That said, I agree with my fellow fans and pundits who think he's a decent pickup for the team.

- I'm really enjoying this new free morning coffee / delivery service courtesy of my Dad. It's going to be pretty damned difficult to go cold turkey once he leaves for his winter hiatus in Panama City in a month's time.

- I don't like Yannick Weber as a 4th line forward. Didn't we run this experiment with Marc-Andre Bergeron? As I recall that didn't work out so well. Yes Weber will be aware defensively but he's small and he's used to patrolling the blueline and we need bigger, tougher guys on that 4th line, not another undersized winger no matter how good his cannon may seem.

- I dislike the ruling allowing Ryan Malone to escape unscathed for the head shot on Chris Campoli. I totally get why he escaped a suspension, but I do think the whole leaning forward argument is still a recipe for disaster. It's a loophole that needs closing or else someone is still going to get badly hurt. It's the result that needs punishing, not the intent IMO.

- If the Leafs make the playoffs this year I will give in and finally say something nice about them, as opposed to just saying something nice about their fans, most of whom are pretty good folk both online and in person. But that's as far as I'm willing to go!

- I'm a huge Andrei Markov fan but I've pretty much lost all faith that he will return before Christmas. I also don't expect him to be anywhere near the same player, and I fear that someone may blow on him and re-tear his twice repaired ACL or MCL or whatever the hell it is (Eric Staal I'm giving you the Evil Eye). I expect Sidney Crosby will return long before Markov laces them up again.

- If the league had a few less teams Sean Avery would likely have never made the NHL in the first place. He's cleared waivers and frankly I'm glad. The sport could use less players like him and Matt Cooke, and I won't pretend to be sorry to see him go. I would pretend to pity the fashion world, but I don't bother with it much so meh.

- Speaking of smart-mouthed instigators I kind of developed that rep myself at work the other night. Mom wanted to take half the night off when there was little mail in the plant. She said she would go home and drink with my father. I told her no on account of that the last time she did that I suddenly got a brother. The resulting fallout from that comment amused coworkers but I'm currently cooling my jets in Mom's doghouse.

- Despite the fact that I promised myself I'd cap my fantasy hockey league participation this season at 3, I'm now in 7 pools. The one I want to win mots of all is the work pool, because the same damned guy wins it every year and frankly it's terribly old. Even non-hockey watchers and fantasy league players roll their eyes about it now.

- Ryan Kesler is much much prettier than Zdeno Chara.

- It totally blows that I'm going to miss the season opener versus the Leafs and especially the Winnipeg Jets home opener versus the Habs. I guess I will just have to content myself with the Habs winning both games and delivering some solid ass kicking right out of the gate.

- Since I'm working evenings, my hockey commentary will come after the fact as I watch my PVR well after midnight Atlantic time on game nights. This will lead to sudden late night tweets of ET LE BUUUUUUTTTTT! and "FFS my grandma could have stopped that puck" etc. Y'all have been warned.

Summer's End

2011-10-02T13:51:00.000-03:00

Photo courtesy of Laura Kenney

Watching the Habs deliver a solid butt-kicking to the normally respectable Tampa Bay Lightning last night, I couldn't help but feel a tinge of sadness knowing that their last pre-season game meant my summer was over.

Don't get me wrong. I'm a hockey nut and like most of us nutters I'm excited and eager for the regular season to get underway. It's just I had a fabulous vacation this past week and I'm not so keen to return to work and the real world, which starts tonight.

Before we get into last night's Habs and Lightning match, here's how I spent the last week of my summer vacation. I'm not going to go into major details here. The photos and video clips pretty much speak for themselves.

Here are the clips of us raucous Habs fans (sitting behind the Bruins fans) on the local Global news. If you pause at the 32 second mark of the second clip, you can see from left to right @hfxhabby giving the thumbs down, Boss Lady looking like she wants to be elsewhere, Mom, @habbykins, moi and @cokeaddict.

After @cokeaddict left town, @habbykins and I took a tour of the Halifax Citadel. If you want a history lesson, their website will walk you through quite nicely if you can't make the tour in person. As a local I tend to take the fort's charms for granted, and one of the nice things about playing tour guide is reacquainting myself with some of this city's history.

Here a couple of snaps so you get the idea:

A soldier knotting rope. Isn't he a cutie?

Citadel guards use real weapons and thankfully, blank cartridges!

The entire collection of my vacation photos are available for viewing on Facebook.

We also took in the Public Gardens, which grows all varieties of beautiful dahlias.

Dahlias in the Gardens coffee shop. Pretty!

Laura also wanted a tour of the Titanic grave markers. Thanks to James Cameron's flick these have gone from totally ignored to a major tourist attraction. Go figure.

The Jack Dawson is the movie is a fictional character, but this is a real Titanic victim.

On Friday we took a ferry across the harbour and went to a wine show. I talk a good game but the truth is I'm a lightweight, and it didn't take long before I was tipsy. Laura took a little longer, but by the time Mom picked us up we were feeling pretty loopy. The show had a buy one bottle, get one free going on, so naturally we took advantage.

That night we played Rockband and then did the Wii Just Dance game, which frankly is much harder and a better workout than the Wii Fit everyone is so keen on. It's also much more fun. However since there were copious amounts of booze involved, our co-ordination may have been just a wee bit off. I'll spare you the singing (you're welcome), but here's a clip of the dancing.

After Laura departed for home I took a nap before the game came on, and this time us Habs fans were treated to a much better showing than the previous game.

Regardless of the score I saw some great passing, good teamwork, unity on the ice, and awareness of where their linemates were. The chemistry was a delight to watch, and it was something that I had felt was a bit off the previous game.

As I stated in my review of the Halifax game, Scott Gomez is looking like a different player this season. It may be only some some meaningless pre-season games but clearly he is already fully engaged and focused, and I think he's in for a much better year. Frankly I'm glad, not just because the team needs him but because I really do just like the guy.

Also usually taking a beating from the fanbase, Andrei Kostitsyn looked to me like he was trying hard and having fun as well. It's a pity the refs didn't let him dance with Downie. I usually don't like fighting but AK46 is not a usual combatant, it wasn't a dirty incident like the Malone nonsense later, and since he's pretty much built like a tank I'm pretty sure I'd have finally won a hockey bet with Mom.

I usually have a lot of respect for Tampa Bay. They carry some ex-Habs on their roster, and their current coach is a personal fave. But last night's crapfest courtesy of Ryan Malone has soured me somewhat on their organization as a whole.

I'm not sure why Vinny LeCavalier suddenly needs an enforcer but Malone's nonsensical flare-up with PK Subban was clearly unwarranted. I know PK gets blasted sometimes for his mouth or antics, but he did nothing to warrant Malone's attack, and it was frankly nice to see Hal Gill simply flop on top of Malone to put a quick stop to it.

Not content to leave it at that, Malone later decided to spear Carey Price into the net in an attempt to score a goal. Pretty sure I also saw him lift his arms in celebration, to which I had to wonder if he'd suddenly dropped some IQ points. Basic hockey 101 will tell you it's not a legitimate way to score a goal.

Hockey's latest lesson has come courtesy of new NHL disciplinarian Brendan Shanahan, and I'm hoping for continued consistency on his part when it comes time to review the shoulder-to-head shot Ryan Malone took on Chris Campoli. It has been a long time since I've had much faith in the NHL when it comes to handing out punishments for clear infractions, but Shanahan has me cautiously optimistic.

Malone's later statements ran to the effect of that he tried to avoid Campoli but that Campoli just came at him. Having watched and re-watched the video either Malone is dumb, delusional or high if he honestly believes what he's saying, or expects anyone else to believe it either.

Considering it's only pre-season the number of suspensions for cheap shots is as alarming as it is encouraging. Yes, the NHL is cracking down, but clearly the message is not getting through as quickly as it should.

I'm not sure why this is, and I'm not sure why the perpetrator always feels the need to blame the player he's just concussed either. I'd have at least some respect if someone would just admit to some stupid wrongdoing in the heat of a hockey play, but it seems accountability is also sorely lacking along with some good old fashioned common sense.

Finally I must give props to the big hearted Josh Gorges, who dropped the gloves in defense of his fellow blueliner all the while knowing that he was going to take a beating from Malone regardless. He's a shining example of the heart and camraderie and teamwork that characterizes this team, which is largely part of why I love them.

So how was your summer? And what are you most looking forward to this hockey season?

Habsfans and Habs Hit Halifax

2011-09-26T18:59:00.000-03:00

Habs in warmup at Halifax Metro Center.

When the Habs lost to the Sens in pre-season and the roster was announced for their Halifax matchup versus the Bruins, I predicted a drubbing. Sadly, I was right, but at least I had tickets and some great friends to accompany me, and I was perfectly willing to overlook the fact that one is a Penguins fan.

I was looking forward to seeing three players in particular that I hadn't seen before: Erik Cole, Alexei Yemelin and Peter Budaj. I also wanted a look at Aaron Palushaj, the much-lauded Bulldog scoring machine.

Before we get into the Habs though, it's time for an update on my Halifax vacation with my two out-of-town Habs tweeps who came for the game - Laura aka @habbykins and Daisy aka @cokeaddict.

Lobster is out of season, but that didn't stop us!

Daisy had the flight-from-hell on Thursday, arriving after an adventure involving a seatmate who rarely flew and a guy in front of her with the worst possible case of B.O. in the history of flight. We grabbed some lobster for lunch on Friday, and then collected a delayed Laura from her flight before heading home.

Saturday saw us braving the fog and rain for a road trip to Peggy's Cove, the Swiss Air Memorial, Mahone Bay, and Lunenburg. The weather finally co-operated when we hit Lunenburg, and we were able to wander around the town and snap some photos.

Here are some snaps for your viewing pleasure, complete with handy-dandy captions.

Laura on the gazebo in Lunenburg.

Me, Laura and Daisy at the Swiss Air Memorial.

Me, Daisy and Laura outside the Whalesback.

Can you see Laura yet?

Laura in her stylin' Peggy's Cove souvenir hat.

I really think the pirate hat is sooooo Daisy!

And of course I'm in charge!

Found a choice parking spot right outside the Lunenburg post office.

The Lunenburg Opera House. Who says we're uncultured?

One of the main streets in Lunenburg.

Love the colourful buildings in Lunenburg.

Lunenburg town hall.

The Bluenose wasn't in the harbour, but its store always is.

Mom kept threatening to send Daisy here.

Sadly, this threat carries no weight as the jail is now a restaurant.

Mom in front of the memorial to local sailors and ships lost at sea.

Laura and waaaaay back Daisy both doing the "tourist thing".

On Sunday, game day, we started by braving the waterfront despite the cruise ship passengers who were hogging the waterfront. I had awoken with a headache, and took some pills that morning but resorted to begging for some more meds off Laura.

We watched the glassblowers and enjoyed a Caesar at Stayner's Wharf, though I was totally unimpressed with their service. They didn't have a full patio, but took their time to seat the patrons and then serve them. Daisy had to ask for water three times before we got our glasses, one of which was warm.

When Daisy asked the third time a snotty waitress declared "Well you didn't ask me honey, but I'll get you some water". Clearly she's in the wrong profession. With an attitude like that she really ought to be a dominatrix instead.

While we strolled around in our Habs gear we kept count of those who told us they liked our shirts or hats or the Habs as opposed to those who insulted us. The final tally was 10 to 2, with 2 ambiguous remarks that involved the Mooseheads and someone who merely wished they could go to the game without declaring a team affiliation.

Because I know you want it, here are some more photos.

From left to right - my double Caesar, Laura's Bloody Mary, Daisy's single Caesar.

Daisy drinking in the middle of the afternoon!

Laura drinking in the middle of the afternoon!

Do NOT eat what you catch in the Halifax harbour. Ewwww!

This is just too funny! Laura is totally fun-sized!

Once again, Laura and Daisy in tourist mode.

The Queen Elizabeth is in port, which supposedly explains our slow service.

We would have counted it 10 to 3, but we figured "Fuck the Habs" was really a good suggestion and had we run across any of Les Boys in downtown Halifax we probably would have tried it. They are a good looking bunch after all and we are healthy and vibrant heterosexual females who have functioning eyeballs.

We headed on up to the bar - Maxwells Plum - which makes a huge and delicious frozen lime margarita, although they are a whopping $10 a pop. I downed two and we were joined by Boss Lady (the Pens fan), Mom and Bro aka @HfxHabby who also had one or two before we headed over to the Metro Center.

We stood in line and I abused the English language repeatedly until they let us in to find our seats. Us six Habs fans (we had honorarily dubbed Boss Lady a Habs fan for the night) took our seats and a few moments later six Bruins fans took the seats directly in front of us. This was hilarious to us all, and we joked and chatted good-naturedly.

Even Global TV took a liking to it and filmed us screaming "Go Habs Go" after first filming the Bruins fans for a profile on Brad Marchand. The Bruins fans in front of us were really fun and there was some friendly smacktalking and booing, and to me that is how a rivalry should manifest itself between fanbases, with respect for the people you are talking to.

As for the game itself, here are my thoughts:

- The Habs are probably going to take a lot of too many men on the ice penalties again this year. Their line changes are sloppy at best, and pre-season play will allow it but they're going to get hurt if they don't pay more attention once the regular season starts.

- I really truly hate blind drop passes in the neutral and offensive zones. The once in a blue moon time it works does not make up for the regular turnovers that occur when it does not, which last night was pretty much every single time.

- The kids are so busy showing what they have that they are coming across as selfish players with little to no vision on the ice. A bit more awareness of where their linemates are and a bit more passing the puck instead of charging full bore and overskating it would go a long way.

- I really don't think any of these defensive prospects will help us if the injury bug bites severely again this year. As and as I type that, the Habs sign Chris Campoli. I'd feign surprise here, but I'm not an actress unless I'm on a first date and trying to hide the fact that I think this guy is a serial killer, in which case I could probably contend for an Oscar.

- The two short-handed goals and the two power play goals were a direct result of defensive failure, stupid turnovers, lack of team work, and some total panic by Peter Budaj. He got hung out to dry a bit by his D-men, but he needs some help from Groulx on his positioning, rebound control, and most of all his self-confidence. You could almost smell his fear from mid-center ice where I sat when a Bruins player came bearing down on him.

- When Scott Gomez took a shot and scored on a breakaway my first thought was "That was Gomez"? I lit the guy up last year but from what little I saw I'd say he's genuinely determined to put his best skate forward. He's engaged, focused, playing smart and hard, and there is an effort level that was lacking for much of last season.

- Before Erik Cole took to cherry picking from the blueline he was also giving it his best effort. Once the wheels came off he got too cutesy, but with a bunch of discombobulated kids surrounding him, it's hard to fault him for just having some fun. On a squad full of fellow NHLers I fully expect him to be a solid contributor to the Habs this season, and he has some nice chemistry going with Gomez already.

- If I had to pick a kid to retain I'd probably pick Aaron Palushaj. That said there are times he's so focused on the puck he forgets all about the man he should be covering, though he's usually quick enough to recover. Like the other kids he sometimes gives into nerves or excitement.

- I was disappointed in Alexei Yemelin. For a guy who tagged his own teammates hard in practice, he seemed rather reluctant to do it against the Bruins. He also took a stupid penalty that led to a goal against, and I wasn't particularly impressed with his positional play either.

- If Andrei Kostitsyn and Mathieu Darche spent any time on the ice last night I blinked and missed it. I did notice Yannick Weber, but not necessarily in a good way. The same can be said for Hal Gill who got beaten almost every time.

- I'm not sure how it is possible to screw up popcorn, but the Metro Center managed to do it. For what they are charging for a bag of it, cold, butter-less and salt-less is just not acceptable.

- Not sure why it is I always need to sit near the total douchebags every time I go to a hockey game, but it seems I must. Last night's special was a guy who kept wishing for Chara to "break a neck", and when a Habs fan won a $2000 watch hoped the fan would get knifed and robbed. Every fanbase has such douches, including my own, but I'd really like a lot less exposure to it. One of the really nice things about twitter is a block feature, and I really could have used such a gadget last night at the Metro Center.

- The booing of Chara every time he got his stick on the puck got old pretty fast. "You boo because you're scared" Douchebag's wife yelled, but it's not true. I boo because I lack respect for Cro-Magnon as a human being who takes immediate responsibility for his actions as opposed to blaming the victim, which he did when he claimed Pacioretty leaned forward to ram his own neck into the pylon. Blaming the victim is never cool. And anyway I stopped booing after the first few times 'cause it's more effort than Chara's worth and my growing headache had me sitting pretty still by then anyway.

- The only real Bruins highlight for me came courtesy of the Metro Center announcer, who took to calling him Sah-day-nah Chara, much to the delight of the Habs fans nearby.

- It was great fun to meet @goaliemom98 who is a ginger and her two terribly cute kids. Dan had even scored a kickass picture of Subban and Price doing the triple low five.

- After the game I came home and took some meds and fell into bed, leaving Mom to entertain my two houseguests. Today the headache threatened to return, but I'm currently holding it at bay with Extra Strength Tylenol. Of course this has a severe, negative side affect in that I cannot drink alcoholic beverages, but it beats puking my guts out in a dark room with a cloth over my face, nursing a hangover.

Hope you enjoyed the photos! Further updates as the debauchery warrants...

The Bitch is Back

2011-09-21T02:37:00.000-03:00

So I came home from work and proceeded to watch my PVR of the Habs first pre-season game. My first mistake was not getting drunk quickly enough. My second was watching most of the game before finally locating the TV remote and channel surfing over to Spike TV and Auction Kings.

Time for random scattered thoughts, fueled largely by Lamb's amber and Riesen chocolates.

1. Mom's reaction to the game: "I'm not impressed". Me either. When's the last time the Habs won a pre-season opener, or a season opener, or a home opener? I honestly can no longer recall, but it's getting depressing. I told Mom the Leafs do well in pre-season and suck the rest of the year and would she rather have that version of an NHL team, but she's of the opinion that she doesn't give a rat's ass about what the hell the Leafs do and it's hard to argue with that.

2. I love Carey but man does he suck ass during pre-season. Gill's got some serious rust going on too. Time to lube up boys. Enjoy that visual folks.

3. So Alexei Yemelin is RDS's new poster boy this season? Did someone inform Darche? I hope he's taking it well. Yemelin's not even Francophone.

4. I switched over to Auction Kings long enough to realize thru the drunken haze that Alan's a nerd and I hate him. I don't hate him for being a nerd. I hate him for trying to be cool and rejecting his true nerd self. Dude, just be who you are!

5. I like Ton but him on that teeny scooter along with the Nerd on another one is just a glaring example of men who never grow up and grown women like me who routinely mock, jeer and laugh at them for it, and this is why those without stupid reality shows constantly get rejected for sex.

6. According to this stupid TV show I haven't yet turned off Americans spent roughly 134 million prepping for Y2K. I feel kind of chintzy here now cause though I am Canadian instead, I only spent the equivalent of a 40 oz bottle of vodka, only a shot or two of which I consumed before realizing my computer would not, in fact, implode, before I called it a night and went to bed grossly disappointed by the whole Much Ado About Nothingness of it all.

7. Did Jacques Martin stop dying some of his hair? The sideburns are distinctly graying. The bald spot is growing noticeably tho. I see he's still got a trusty notebook, but he needs a stylin' Habs pen like I've got.

8. It seems the pre-season version of Our Montreal Canadiens are having trouble holding the offensive zone with the man advantage. The regular season version had better not have this trouble too. Oh hell, who am I kidding? *sigh*

9. Four shots on net the first period. Four. And they were down three goals before they were halfway thru the first period, by which time I was half in the bag. We are - all of us - nothing if not consistent when it comes to pre-season hockey.

10. Say what you want but that was a dandy snipe by Andrei Kostitsyn who went top shelf on Raycroft. Suck it haters.

11. I cannot say as any kid impressed me terribly, but then again I'm liquored up and cannot really tell a lot of them apart. I know Woywitka because he scored a goal. That said, each kid seemed to have a bright moment here and there. They were definitely all trying. Some did not have some good moments though either.

12. It seems I'm still adjusting to liking Erik Cole. When he scored a goal, my first reaction was to cringe and cuss. It's hard to break the Pavlovian reaction. At least I'm in no danger of having to adjust similarly for Eric - I'm never going to forgive you for Markov's second fubared knee - Staal.

13. Back on Spike TV they are going ape over some old wooden skateboards. My brother used to dig them and skate, but I never did get why they are cool and/or exciting. Then again if I walk across the living room without slamming into a coffee table I figure it's a good day. Some of us are not meant to be athletes.

14. Clearly this game is payback by the Hockey Gods for my mocking the lone Leafs fan at work the other night. She only watches "when the Leafs are winning". You can imagine the hassle she got from me for that one. Mom helped and so did her boyfriend, who helpfully pointed out to her that Mom and I are Habs fans. Even a non-hockey watcher chimed in. It seems I will have to burn another photo of Brad Marchand's nose in effigy to atone. Mea culpa!

15. If the Habs continue to play like this I'm worried I won't be able to afford my bar tab this year. I took a pay cut when I got "hired".

16. The Habs had damned well better win on Sunday versus the stupid Bruins. Barring Divine Intervention, this is likely the only live game I will see all year.

Why is Customer Service Just a Myth?

2011-09-06T10:56:00.000-03:00

I'm not quite sure if it's the modern global market or if PT Barnum's quip about a sucker being born every minute which has meant the inevitable death of customer service. Perhaps it's some combination of the two.

When I was young customer service did not equal lip service. If you were unhappy with a product or service, merchants took the time to discuss the problem with you and work out a solution you could both live with. If you were a repeat customer, this even meant full refunds even if it ran against store policy.

Nowadays customer service is a marketing tool, and not a particularly good one. In my experience, most of the time it's an outright lie. In Halifax there's lots of McDonald's restaurants, and I have yet to experience any degree of quality service from any of them.

I like their iced coffees. They're superior to Tim Horton's, but to get a McDonald's iced coffee is an incredible hassle.

I once spent 23 minutes in a drive thru with 6 other vehicles. I had left 45 minutes early to go to work for a midnight shift, even though it's a 10 minute drive. I was still late for work.

As the cars pulled up to the window to finally get their order they naturally complained to the pimply faced kid in the window. He took to leaning out of the open service window as far as he good so as to better yell into the faces of the patrons he was serving.

I've never been back to that McDonald's, but it seems they are hardly hurting for my coffee money, as they are currently expanding the restaurant.

And of course if you're not in the USA, which has an online complaint form, there's only a 1-800 number to dial for the nearest Canadian head office to complain, which is all the way out in Toronto. Because they certainly don't answer the phone at Lacewood Drive in Halifax from what I can tell.

To go to the McDonald's nearest work means a minimum 5 minute wait at 4:30 in the morning (my usual break time) before someone will even answer the speaker to take the order. Then there's another 5 minute wait to get the coffee. And that's only if there's no one else in the drive thru.

Tim Horton's is no better either. For a 24 hour coffee shop they seem to run out of muffins, donuts, cookies and pretty much everything except coffee well before midnight, and don't resupply before I go home around dawn.

Waiting for a coffee there is also a minimum 5 minutes before the order can be placed, and the kids at the window assume the change is theirs and pocket it freely without checking first to see if you want it back.

My favorite is a co-worker who went there, and asked to know the balance remaining on her own Tim's card. The girl at the window replied she could not say, due to privacy issues.

Meanwhile one of the kids who serves me likes to hand me back my overfilled refillable environmentally-friendly mug without the lid on it, subjecting me to almost being scalded. I have to ask for the lid back, then fumble with it behind a steering wheel while trying to keep the hot coffee from splashing everywhere.

I don't tip anymore on the rare occasions I go there. I tip for service, and I'm not getting it.

It's a great pity that the Burger King, on the same street, does not make a good iced coffee. They actually have good service there. Go figure.

Even people who run small businesses on the internet do not seem to care.

I ordered a pair of hockey jerseys from someone I had dealt with previously. I'd heard rumors about his lack of professionalism, discourtesy and attitude, but he offers a quality product at a good price.

I sent him my money, which he promptly took, and finally after 10 weeks of patiently waiting I emailed him and was steadfastly ignored. Three days later I made a request on twitter to ask him to check his email.

For this I was blocked, and then he emailed me a letter wherein he used excessive punctuation, belligerence, and some truly poor grammar to make his point.

Something like this. Just because. He thinks I'm a simpleton. And he has my money. And he doesn't care. Cause there's nothing I can do. So I can go to hell.

My reply was more courteous than he deserved given the fact that it has now been 12 weeks, and I still don't have the jerseys, and I think my chances of winning the 6/49 are better than ever getting them or my money back.

And meanwhile this hockey jersey guy is still shilling his wares online and getting plenty of takers.

I did manage to deprive him of another half-dozen purchases though by warning some of my online friends. They don't deserve his rudeness, and if they dare to ask after three months where their items are they are going to be subjected to it, as I was, and as were others before me.

I've had dogs chase me down the street and stood there while their owners blamed me for it. I've had people waiting for packages loom over me physically yelling in my face, demanding that I return to the plant right now and find it and bring it to them immediately.

I get frustrated by it. I don't appreciate it. But I don't take it out on them in return either.

It's called professionalism.

But because everything is so readily available online, because so many vendors can find so many new suckers to take advantage of, because franchises will not pay quality wages to secure quality employees, then customers are subjected to inferior service time and again.

I wonder sometimes what would happen if all the employees at my plant would simply boycott the Tim Horton's or McDonald's they hate so much for even a week. Would it make a difference?

Once upon a time it probably would have. Now? I highly doubt it.

Fantasy Hockey vs Hockey Fantasies

2011-08-27T09:15:00.002-03:00

What you will NOT be winning - my Habs den treasures.

So Laura (aka @habbykins) and Bro (@HfxHabby) and myself (if you don't know who I am by now I'm flattered you're reading - thanks) have formed a Yahoo Fantasy Hockey League called "The League of Ordinary Smartasses".

The reason this league boasts only Ordinary Smartasses as opposed to Extraordinary Smartasses is because Yahoo said that name was too long.

We have 15 spots out of 20 spoken for (including ourselves) and 10 have already confirmed registration (including ourselves). You lucky savvy readers who are good with numbers realize instantly this means there are at least 5 spots left for you to join.

Why join you ask? Simple. Prizes. We 3 have even disqualified ourselves from winning the loot, so your chances are at a minimum 1 in 17 to win assuming all slots get filled.

Also, hey... it's us. We are fun. We are happening. We are hockey fans, though not all of us are Habs fans in this league. Also we are pretty darned cute. What more do you want anyway?

Barring a significant lottery win on our part, the prizes will be small tokens of our gratitude for tolerating us and putting up with our nonsense. And we also like our tweeps so this seemed like a fun idea to us. Remind me I wrote that when I come in dead last in the pool.

Just for fun, I thought I would clarify the differences between what is going on with this Fantasy Hockey League, and point out how it is not one of my endless hockey fantasies.

For example:

Habs winning Stanley Cup for 25th time - Currently a "hockey fantasy", especially if you ask any non-Habs fans and even some Habs ones. This is subject to immediate change should my ritual sacrifices to the Hockey Gods finally bear fruit.

Tyger Twinkies - The name of my team in the Fantasy League that has just as good a chance of winning the pool as any of the other ones at the moment. Team motto: The Twinkie defense gets me off every time. Anyone else remember that lawsuit? If I go gonzo after winning or losing, this is the defense I intend to employ. Also, the gloves were too small.

Mike Cammalleri scoring - Currently a "hockey fantasy" unless I suddenly become his new girlfriend.

Scott Gomez scoring - Currently ranked 294th by default on Yahoo Fantasy Hockey, and I hope to hell he's ranked a lot higher after this season by comparison.

Strip Hockey - A hockey fantasy somewhat akin to strip poker, only there's pucks instead of chips and there's no ice involved unless you are talking about what's chilling my vodka coolers.

Scoring Hockey - The fantasy league doles out points for goals, assists, shots on goals, shutouts and on and on and thank God I don't have to do any actual math here.

The Commissioner - In my perfect hockey fantasy world it would be me once I've finally Bon Cop Bad Copped Gary Bettman's butt to the curb.

The Commissioner - Our fantasy league's Commish is @Habbykins but Bro and I are Assistant Head Honchos which is - alas - likely as close as we are ever going to get to such fab hockey powers.

Smackdown City - In my fantasy world the Habs are bigger and tougher and don't spend so much time on the LTIR (I'm looking at you Markov).

Smacktalk City - In our League of Ordinary Smartasses, smack talking is pretty much mandatory.

So there you have it: the key differences between hockey fantasies and fantasy hockey.

Hockey fantasies may well be fun, but I promise if you choose to join our Fantasy Hockey it likely will provide you with some fun too and if not it's pretty much guaranteed to provide US with some fun at your expense and this is why we do this kinda thing 'cause it's not like we're getting paid for it.

And no, you don't have to pay for it either. It's free to join our league.

If we get enough interest we will open a second league and add more prizes. Feel free to queue in the comment section below. My email is listed at the very bottom of this page if you want to send me a message.

UPDATE: Wow that was fast! Our first league is already full so we've opened a second. Same scenario applies. No fee to join, minor prizes, all hockey fans welcome regardless of team preference. Can contact any of the three of us for registration info. Thank you for playing and good luck!

I Think The Sky Is Falling

2011-08-16T01:12:00.003-03:00

There hasn't been a lot going on lately to blog about other than the ceiling falling down in my apartment. No I'm not kidding.

For seven weeks there has been on-going construction on my apartment. Last winter a storm ripped open a hole above our balcony, and the pigeons had taken to roosting inside. Their constant crapping rendered our balcony unusable up until about two weeks ago when they were forcibly evicted by a pest control guy.

Pest control guy told us that there was 15 pounds of pigeon poop in the rafters. I have to wonder if he weighed it, what sort of scale he weighed it with and how often he disinfects it, and if weighing the poop is part of the service and if so why, or something he just does for fun? Maybe he's inhaled too many chemicals or too much pigeon poop and this is why he came across more as a weirdo and less as an expert in his field.

But with the pigeons gone and the seven weeks of banging and pounding over with, we finally had delusions of getting our apartment back. What we got instead was a daily reference to the Chicken Little story, only with plaster and drywall instead of with an acorn.

Here are some snaps for your viewing pleasure.

Going...

Going...

Gone.

I will spare you more photos of this nature, but suffice to say it's now going on throughout the rest of the apartment in the dining room and living room. In fairness to my landlord, they did hire the original contractor in good faith, who in turn took advantage and prolonged the work by weeks and did a shoddy job.

We really got tired of it when we found that there were now electrical problems as a switch was coming loose from the wall and making a funny noise when we attempted to turn the dining room light on and off. The very next day the landlord hired a different contractor, who told us they repaired two 15 ft. crevasses in the roof.

It hasn't rained since, but we are all waiting to see if the problem has finally been solved. Fingers crossed.

In the meantime I did what I usually do when I get stressed out and that is buy some Habs bling. Here it is - the Centennial Set.

It was a four way purchase and actually belongs to Da Nephew courtesy of myself, his father and his grandparents, but that hasn't prevented us all from enjoying the hell out of it. He's only 2 himself, but he still likes to look at the "hockey people" as he calls them.

I'm longing for hockey season to resume, but I am also enjoying the summer. Or at least I was until I fell asleep in the sun yesterday and turned into Crispy Tyger. Yes, I am old enough to know better but I have lacked proper sleep for months due to the midnight schedule and I was finally warm, comfortable and I gave in to the lure of some much needed rest and vitamin D.

I cannot really wear clothing except for a loose shirt, and Mom is reportedly tired of "looking at my ass" as "every time I look up there it is". No, I am not uploading photos of this.

So far my summer has mostly been suffering, sleeplessness and missing hockey. I hope you all are faring better!

The Good Old Summertime Hockey Game

2011-07-24T13:58:00.002-03:00

I remember hockey games at the old Forum, not movies.

Admit it. You miss hockey season too. I certainly do, so much so that I subscribed to the NHL network over a month earlier than usual, just so I could watch some vintage hockey.

I set the game to PVR and took off with Da Nephew and Mom out into the wilds of the Annapolis Valley in search of a new butcher shop. Our old meat market went under after the owner died and his sons became more interested in duking it out instead of keeping a successful farm and business going.

Don't know what it's like in other cities, but in Halifax the grocery store meats are shoe leather tough even after marinating and the shoe leather is hideously expensive. Even with gas considerations it is better quality and cheaper to go to a farm and buy local. The same with fruits and veggies too.

Despite being only 2 years old and unaccustomed to road trips, Da Nephew took it like a trooper, sleeping all the way out and then chattering and singing and playing while restrained in a car seat for a couple of hours. What a great little guy.

Our only issue was his newfound insistence on calling my mother "Nanny Manny" and me "Auntie Panty", which frankly is hilarious but hardly flattering. Naturally the more we protested the more he did it.

We got home and for the first time in literally months had some delicious, tender, juicy, grilled-to-perfection-if-I-do-say-so-myself steaks. Then I went to bed. I've been picking up extra shifts and if I wanted to stay up to watch the game with Mom and Bro then I need some sleep, something that has been sorely lacking for weeks now.

Bro arrived near midnight and we immediately got to drinking and snacking (chicken wings!) whilst settling in to watch our first Saturday night game in months.

"We don't do well without hockey," observed Mom. "It's pathetic."

What can I say? We're Canadian, eh.

First up was the Adams quarterfinal game 7 between the Habs and Quebec Nordiques which took place at the Montreal Forum on May 2, 1985.

"Peter Stasny," I said with a disdain that I tend to reserve for chocolate thieves. I successfully if narrowly resisted the urge to spit in disgust on my Mom's clean floor. "I always hated him."

Never mind that I can no longer remember why I hated Peter Stasny or his brother Anton. Just know that it has always been thus, much like the sun has always arisen in the East. Some things just are.

We were enjoying the game despite the fact that the Nords went up two goals and got all the damned power plays. Some things never change I guess.

Knuckles Nilan got 12 mins in the box, a 10 minute major for going after that prick Price (Pat, not Carey). Personally I think Price should have gotten 12 for being a Nordiques and daring to offend Knuckles, but then I'm a bit biased here.

Eventually the Habs got on the board, courtesy of Mondou, or Mon Dieu, as Bro likes to call him.

Mom decided to run some fashion commentary. "Is she wearing a Sou'Wester? No. That's her hair."

"The game has really changed," I observed, watching a lot of hooking, tripping and interference going on, which the non-helmet wearing refs were perfectly content to largely ignore.

The players would literally hold each other at the blueline. Back then it was blatant, and if the player got knocked down - which was often - he got up again and would likely try to retaliate.

I liked it much better. Also, the sticks were not composite matchsticks and didn't break, and I only caught two instances where the refs waved a forward out of the face off circle.

"Get the hell out of my way hockey," Bro called it. "Haul your ass down hockey."

"Better than all the diving and attempts to draw penalties."

We laughed as when the refs did make a call the Habs players would cuss 'em out from the box. I'm not a lip reader, but I'm quite certain the 1985 version of Our Montreal Canadiens had some very big potty mouths.

The teams also played longer shifts, but skated just as hard and fast. I kept getting confused by the numbers.

"Who the hell is number 20?" I asked at one point. "We dealt Wisniewski."

"Hunter," replied Bro. "Carbo is 21, Tremblay is 14, and Naslund is 26."

"I keep thinking Gio, Pleky and Gorges."

"I know. Shouldn't Goulet be in Vegas?"

"That's Michel, not Bob."

"Ah."

There was also a definite lack of advertising surrounding the team. The boards of the Forum seemed constructed like concrete, and I'm glad I wasn't on the receiving end of one of Nilan's hard checks. They were also white and bare without signage of any kind.

"Quebec people always dressed to the nines for hockey games back then," Mom observed.

"Except for the Sou'Wester hair," I replied.

By then Bro had gone through some chicken wings and was onto a Dagwood style sandwich. During the commercial break - which we inexplicably watched despite having this game on PVR - Mom decided to keep us up on some current news.

"Did you see that woman in the US cut off her husband's penis and ran it through a garbage disposal?"

"Nice," replied Bro, waving his sandwich, "I'm eating some sliced meat here."

"Sorry, sorry," laughed Mom, not selling it at all. "My mind wanders sometimes."

"My mind wonders too," replied Bro, but chowed down anyway.

Back from break the Habs finally tied it up, courtesy of Mats Naslund who had also assisted on their first goal. And with that the game went into overtime.

More commercials, and this time it was Fabio rolling around on a piano.

"Dude is butt ugly," Bro observed.

"Yes he is. Also he can barely speak English and these commercials make no sense. I liked the guy with the charm and romantic puppy surprises."

Finally in overtime I heard the familiar Go Habs Go chant from the crowd, but it was to no avail. Steve Penney made two quick good stops but he and his scrambling defenders couldn't stop the third.

"Peter Stasny!" I roared.

I always hated that guy. Now I remember why.